


Not the Final Nail in the Coffin

by ColdCoffins



Category: Hellsing
Genre: AU, Few additional OCs for story content, Gen, Hellsing Ultimate OVA, Monster Men yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdCoffins/pseuds/ColdCoffins
Summary: A Hellsing Ultimate OVA AU short story? What would happen if Anderson survived the final battle? He awakens in a Hellsing facility with the Nail of Helena buried and consumed in his heart.





	1. Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo~  
> This is just an AU I fancied.  
> I just rewatched Hellsing Ultimate and this started bugging me so...here you go.  
> Not sure how long this will last.

_~~  "For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?" Matthew 16:26 ~~_

 

Alexander Anderson had lost. The great battle to end all battles: the final siege of the divine against the unholy. In the dying holy flames of burning London, instead, the paladin consoled the monster with his dying breaths. Was it truly breaths? Did it count when he was less than a torso, quickly crumbling to ash.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



  
Alexander Anderson was dead. Returned to the dust from wence the Lord of the universe made all things.

He did not know that such a transition from dust to the realm of limbo would be one he could recall ‘feeling.’ ‘Feeling’ of course used here comes as a word for any sensation. Does a plant ‘feel’ the rain that hits its reaching leaves? Does a rock ‘feel’ when its dashed upon the earth?

Anderson compared the sensation with an acute numbness in time. The static on a television trying to read a signal, trying to find a spark.

  
This insulated static would be greatly missed once it eventually sharpened into a pure electric current. White hot agony arched and seared around his empty being.

Lighting. A storm of the divine burning his souls shadow into purgatory.

Did he think the journey would be easy, would God be so merciful on those who lifelessly walked in the void? Was this eternal pain also granted upon the souls of his students, his fellow children of Iscariot, when they had only ever faithfully served their one Lord. _I’m sorry_ , He does not whisper, he is a raw lit nerve, _I’m sorry. I do not wish such a trial on my loyal children. But we knew this was coming didn’t we? We, the chosen few. We, who walk in the shadow of Judas to serve our Lord, hidden secretly in the light._

_Do not bend my children. The souls of Iscariot do not flinch before the rod. We bare our mark of rope proudly, until he doth descend and open to us the gates of Heaven._

 

_Amen._

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

“By God, there was nothing left.”

  
“It...is quite remarkable...a miracle perhaps?”

As Alexander regained a steady consciousness, voices floated about him. He has enough presence of mind to know he is in the dark still. Strobes of pain continued to make dull lights in his head.

He heard voices. Other souls? Was this Limbo’s void?

He tried to speak, cry out in any hopes of communication with the souls of those who had come before him, but he could make no sound. As if encased in stone, Alexander could neither move nor be heard.

Yet he heard voices. 

“No. I don’t want to hear anything about miracles until he’s more than a human-shaped pile of muscle and bones on the table.”

“It is a...remarkable progress nonetheless. Of course its due to...”

  
  
_What? Due to what? Where are you, speak should you be able to hear me! Answer me!_

 

As if an response to his silent cry, a blinding light illuminated Alexander’s sight. He winced openly into the beam until it waned.  
  
“The mans’ regeneration abilities were above par to being with, but without its help he would no doubt still be a smear of dust on the brickwork of London.”

It is not the first time Anderson had come into a form of consciousness in a clinic room, but it surely is the first time he’s awoken to a clinic that was initially purgatory.

Trying to view beyond the beam of a flashlight positioned directly above his eye, Anderson internally squints at the wrinkles of a pale faced doctor hovering nearby.

"Ah...his pupils are still dilated yet attempting contractions.”

“So he’s alive?”

Another face peers slightly over the doctors. A face that Anderson could not mistake living or dead.

“Not quite, Sir Integra.” The doctor replied, nudging his head over to allow the woman a view of his light. “I would still say mostly dead, but not completely dead.”

A rising grip tightened its stranglehold on Alexander’s thoughts. This couldn’t be limbo. Not with that bloody protestant here, peering inches in front of his face! In truth, the father was still not fully convinced he had been sealed away in some hellish level of purgatory.  
  
“The man was nearly as much a monster as Alucard, then. Perhaps this is not such a surprise after all...”

“He is continuing to recover rapidly.”

  
  
Should his heart still be intact on his body, Anderson felt as if it was dropped into cold water. A sickening sensation further rattles his demeanor. _So it happened after all...then...that vampire…?_

“There is a possibility he can hear what we are saying right now.”

 

_Aye, I can. And if I could tell ya I’d want answers...now y’bloody heathens! Where is he?! WHERE IS YOUR PET VAMPIRE?!_

  
  
“What, a type of coma?”  
  
“Somewhat, yes.”

 

_WHERE!? I’M STILL HERE DAMMIT!_

 

Somewhere a high pitched beeping went off from a monitor in the room, catching the doctors attention.

The room and figures in it where grey shadows with remnant trases of their former identities. The doctor’s shadow turned away from Anderson, leaving only the form of Integra Wingates Hellsing in Anderson's statue view. Her clear blue…(eye?) studied what the father could only assume was his remains. 

  
_Where is he? I shouldn’t be here...I’m not suppose t’be here..._ , Anderson felt a familiar rage igniting, a familiar long time detest for a old enemy, _When I can move-nay-when I can speak I’ll make y’talk. I’ll make y’bloody sing Helsing! I’m make ya wish y’never brought me back from the abyss!_

 

“Ah...his brain waves are spiking…” The doctor informed Integra as if speaking on the weather.

“Sedate him.” Integra replied, “ This corpse is in no condition to be conscious on any level of brain activity.”

 

Anderson would have roared, would have fought to the teeth to struggle for his freedom to remain awake. If not for the sake of hearing as much as possible than to plot his next move once movement became available to his limbs. The act of having no will under this protestant enemy- no power of his own!  
  
Without an able word of protest, Anderson did not even feel the needle slip under his skin. The warped sounds of the voices become far away and fading. The paladin is wrapped in the heavy, cold, dark of limbo once more.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Alexander Anderson doesnt know how long he’s been out, but on his return he took a deep inhale as if coming up for air. The sudden breath stings like a swarm of angry bees had traveled down his trachea and filled out his lungs and chest.  

His eyelids flit open to blinding artificial lights.

Anderson’s head was a tornado of confusion. It was accompanied with the feeling as though rows of thorns had embedded in his brain. With every hammer of his head, those thorns dug deep into a more pulsing, sharp ache.

The light did him no favor for the deep throbbing in his skull.

  
_Steady...dont rush it now_. Anderson thinks and then shuts his eyes tight again, trying to recollect a stable trail of thoughts.

Unclitied, a low groan left his throat. It drew attention from the only overseer in the room. 

  
“Sir? Father Anderson?” The lightness of the voice made its somewhat unrefined english accent smoother. “Can you hear me, sir?”  
  
In the past, Alexander’s emerald green glare- sharp as his bayonets, would have sent a cutting shiver down Seras Victoria’s spine. Only now, the vampiress was emboldened by her new evolution in her un-life.

She was blood-sucking flea Anderson could have squished with his heel and now she was an actual vampiric threat. 

  
Almost.

Without his glasses and his eyes not accustomed to the lights overhead, Seras was blurry to Anderson’s eyes. Not so much that he couldn’t make out how she stood straighter, the sharper features around her eyes and, of course, the red, eternal pulsating demonic energy that replaced her right arm.

The vampire and the paladin stared at one another for a passing minute. The room was silent save for the occasional beeping of machines Anderson was hooked up to. 

  
“M’arms won’t move.” Anderson spoke, his voice was graveled raw from being unused.

“No, Father.” Seras answered simply, now seeing the demon hunter awake her tone turned more professional. “If I were you, I wouldn't expect to be able to move at all for the next few days.”

Another potent silence.

Anderson accepted the vampiress’s diagnosis.

“Where am I?”

“You are currently in the grounds of the Hellsing manor. Under the grounds that is. You are being held in the Hellsing medical wing while you recover.”

The paladin huffed a jet of air between his teeth - a pained laugh of sorts? 

  
“Well...in the very least, I can take comfort I didn’t pass into limbo on this heathen land…”  
  
“No, sir.” Seras said, “You didnt.”  
  
Again, the air hangs quiet in the clinic room.  
  
“Why are you here Vampire?” Alexander says in a pained tone, “If you’re so sure...I can’t do y’any harm like this…?”

The pounding in his head had not ceased. Perhaps he could ask the young vampress to smash his head into the concrete and let the pressure bleed out before regeneration took place.

Then there was his chest, lord, each beat of his heart was an ache. A knife being driven between his ribs.

“You could call it, ‘better safe than sorry’, Father.” She gave a light smile. “A berserker paladin loose in our grounds is nothing Sir Integra wants.” 

 _Cheeky little Draculina._ Anderson nearly barked a laugh, only had his chest not felt as though it was being crushed in.

“Ah...and…” Anderson croaked before breaking into a fit of rough coughs. A thin mist of blood exhaled from his nose, “...And...to what honor...do I owe my ressurection...to Hellsing?” 

“That would be--”

“That would be by my own choice, Father.”

Seras is cut off by Integra herself entering the room. Hellsing’s head being present caused the Vampire to do a curt bow on her appearance.

“Sir Integra.” Seras greets, “Alexander Anderson is conscious and capable of speech and cognitive thought. He woke thirty minutes ago, sir.”

“Thank you Seras.” Integra hums as she took one of her famous finely rolled cigars from her lips. Its smoke curled about her platinum blonde locks as her remaining eye reflected deep in thought.

“Good Morning, Father Anderson. It is Sunday, October 24th. The year is 2012. It has been thirteen years since the Millenium War. Since the Vampire Alucard crushed your very heart to pulp.”

“Shut up...take a seat...an’ tell me what Iy missed, Babylon. An’ why you’ve got me here.” Anderson said, he took time to say his words as his voice thawed with use. 

Integra gave a thin smile. “Seras...make sure we are not disturbed.” 

“Yes, sir.” The Vampire chimed, taking a stand in front of the clinic room door.  
  
The Hellsing family head moved forward, her heels clicking on the floor. She stopped at a chair placed across from Alexander’s bed and with all the grace of royalty, took her seat.

“Where would you like to begin, Father Anderson?” Integra asked, steelping her fingers.


	2. Seeds of the Past Take Root

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time continues to pass in the Hellsing manor with their current unexpected guest.

The Hellsing doctor told Alexander that he would not be able to walk for at least eleven days.

There was little shock in the mansion when the paladin was up and moving in five.

Those five days passed. Anderson watched as his body recovered. He gained feeling and movement back in his arms first. When he could flex and move his fingers again, Anderson felt the keen need to wrap them around the handle of a bayonet.

Being kept in Hellsings' underground medical wing, Alexander sees little of what goes on above ground. Now and then, the doctor would revisit him to write numbers on his clipboard, check the paladins pulse, do palpitations of his more healed areas and ask him a few general questions.

The doctor would often scratch his head and make a remark short of, ‘The divine must be favoring this patient.’

Along with the doctor’s presence, the young vampress was often nearby. If the creature wasn’t lurking outside the door of his clinic room, she was waiting quietly to take the tray when he had finished the daily meal she brought him.

This was, of course, when Anderson had recovered enough that he could eat. His first attempt ended with the paladin literally spilling his guts from his mouth on the floor.

Now, it was day five.

Alexander stood in front of a mirror in the clinic room.

He slipped on a white undershirt, adjusting the cuffs at the end around his wrists.

How convenient that Hellsing had tailors on demand. As Anderson remembered, both he and the resident pet vampire were of rare proportions. No doubt the monster’s own clothes were all special made to fit.

Taking his time to button the front, Alexander stops just when he reaches the bottom of his left pectoral. He could not remember the last time a scar remained behind when he was wounded. The unusually powerful regeneration Iscariot gifted to him by faith took care of that.

The wound puckered just above his heart. A bullet hole-like crater that spread its fingers like cruel roots under his flesh. 

He regarded the scar with silent study. It was what the Nail of Helena had left behind from its use. Anderson was not supposed to survive that use.

It was only flashes of white hot divine rage that surged through his every limb and he was merely guided by its intent. He was a monstrous weapon of God.

 

 _“Monsters, holy or not, have no place among the church, Father Anderson.” Integra Hellsing spoke from her seat across from where he lay unable to move in his clinic bed._ _  
_ _“Alive or not, Miracle or not, you are dead to them. You are dead to Iscariot and the Vatican.”_

 

_“What will you do now, Father?”_

 

 _  
_ With a lifted hand, Anderson traced the splayed root-like tendrils of the scar with his fingers.

What could he do now?

Under his finger tips, the scarred roots of flesh twitched and writhed as if alive. Alexander gasped and withdrew his hand as if the tendrils might rear and bite him like a snake.

The fright made him instinctively take a step back from the mirror, his body tense in an alert phase. Andersons’ eyes darted about his reflection, they searched his chest for the abnormality that occurred. 

No, it was only himself. The twisted scar a still memory of a failed monster of God.

“Stayin’ for too long in this mad house...” Alexander muttered under his breath as he finished buttoning his shirt. “Bloody protestants gettin’ in me head...”

 

  * \-  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

“Good morning, Father.” Seras greeted a porcelain doll’s smile to the paladin as he exited. He shut the door behind him upon exiting his clinic room. “You’re feeling well enough to walk?”

“Aye…” Anderson responded, something untrusting in his tone. “‘Was always a quick healer m’self.”

The vampress held the gaze of the father behind his glasses for the moment. It was Anderson who made the first move, turned and began his walk down the long artificially lit corridor with a quiet ‘If you’ll excuse me.’ muttered under his breath.

The medical wing was reminiscent of any hospital. It was kept scrubbed clean by Hellsing servants, the smell of disinfectant and surgical plastic hung in the air.

“I suppose I was foolish enough t’think Hellsing would let me wander unaccompanied by one of her dogs, eh?”

Seras looked up at the vampire hunter when he addressed her at his side. She cocked her head innocently and blinked her deep crimson eyes. 

“Sir Integra felt it would be rude for a guest to be left without escort on the Hellsing grounds. I would be happy to show you around, Father.”

Anderson’s own eyes were hidden behind the flash of light that caught his glasses lenses. It made his expression harder for Seras to read.

She felt a twist of nerves in her chest, the seeds of reminder that this man was once her enemy.

No ,he was once her...Master’s greatest nemesis. The human who became a monster of God to defeat her own monstrous Master.

In memory, she felt the holy flames that seared her as she withheld his thorned bayonet from piercing her masters inflamed body.

“Well…” Anderson adjusted the underside of his glasses with two fingers. “Lead on, then.”

The vampress felt her smile return again, inquisitive like the curl of a cat’s tail.

“Right this way, Father.” 

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Night fell on the Hellsing grounds. Seras gave the paladin a full tour of the Mansion above, save of course, for where Sir Integra said was off-limits to their possible enemy.

Anderson was quiet for the most part of their walk. His gaze looked about the walls and home from behind his glasses. His pupils darted from painted picture to picture, his hands clasped behind his back. Anderson would only stop when they reached a particular portrait.

“Father Anderson?” Seras looked back after she noticed that she was no longer being shadowed.

Oh...of course. Of course.

Seras stepped silently back to the paladins side, looking up to his face rather than the large painting he gazed at.

Finally, Anderson shook his head and blinked. “So...where is th’monster now?”

“We...don’t know, Father.” Seras admitted, a melancholy longing in her normally sweet voice. “We...suspect he is dead.” 

  
“Dead? How?” Anderson darted his gaze to Seras, something savage shown in his eyes behind his sheened glasses.  
  
“We...aren’t sure about that either, Father. No one has seen him for the last thirteen years.”  
  
A deep hum came from Andersons throat before he turned sharply to move away.  
  
“More t’show me? Or should we call it a day?”  
  
Moving to catch up to Anderson’s side, Sera’s pleasant tone returned. “Only to show you to your room. Sir Integra insists you should stay properly in the mansion.”  
  
She gave one last glance back to the towering portrait of her master. The great Hellsing vampire smiling in the paint as if he held a deliciously horrible secret.

When she moved again to stay by the paladins side, Seras could have sworn she saw his clasped hands spasm and want to clench the invisible handle of a bayonet.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Seras Victoria, does in fact, hold quite the status in the Hellsing service. She could certainly not fill the space left behind by her master, but she had become close to Integra in Alucards absence.

Being the only supernatural being in the Hellsing Manor now, Seras thought it important to maintain the protection of its ground and staff. As a vampire, Seras could sleep in the day and remain most active at night.

If trouble was going to occur, it would be done so at night. Many monsters felt humans were weak when the sun went down due to their poor sight and superstitions.

Patrolling the halls of the large mansion through her immense shadow was merely part of this duty. To be sure the only sounds being made where the footsteps of staff or the scurry of the occasional mouse.

Which is why the strange twisting and churning of thick vines that emanated from the guest room hall was uncommon to her.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

“Sir Integra, please forgive my interruption, but there’s an urgent matter occurring in the mansion.”  

Integra looks up from her desk at the sudden arrival of Seras the vampire. Seras had seemingly melted from the wall of her shadow that covered the entirety of the mansion.

“Does it concern a certain Papist?”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Wasting little time, the vampress transported herself and her master to the beginning of the hall where guest rooms resided.

When they stepped out from the shadows, the world became tangent to Integra again. Despite her many instant travels with a vampire, she would never quite get use to the feeling of falling in sudden eternity to have her feet step out onto the earth.

It was very much like finding that first step up the stairs in the dark.

“Do you hear it, Sir Integra?” Seras looked to her master, her crimson eyes giving a soft glow in the moonlit hall.

Integra did not need to strain her ears to catch the sound.

She began her stride towards the source, her vampire shadowed close behind. 

It was the creaking of thick tendrils that wound through wood and ground against a hard surface in an attempt to smother it.

When her eyes met the source, Integra tightened her jaw.

The door to the room before her writhed and twisted in thick, dark thorns. The tendrils crawled about every corner of the frame. They caused the hinges to cry out as they broke away from their anchoring wall. The thorns even ventured outward and clung to either wall on the sides of the door frame. The wood creaked loudly in the vines squeezing grip.

 

“Seras is this…”  
  
“Yes, Sir Integra…” Sera’s eyes went wide. In a smooth motion, she put herself between her master and the scene in front of them. “This is the room...I gave to Father Anderson…”

 


	3. Castela Emoryi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where we get to see a monster who isn't quite aware yet that he is a monster. Or perhaps he does. Children often tell lies. 
> 
> ( Lol I dunno. Theres some more scripture here. I'll mark it at the end. )

_“It has been 13 years since the Millennium War. I’ll keep things direct, wouldn't want to place too much stress on your mind in your current state-“_

_“Iy said shut up…” Anderson cut off Integra in his impatience, “If y’aint speakin what I want t’know...don’t run your harlot tongue at all.”_

_The Hellsing Head sat neatly across from where the Paladin lay unmoving in his clinic bed. It was much like a hawk perched on high regarding the cat who had the gall to try and make her his dinner._

_Her remaining eyebrow inclined at the paladin. The two had an elaborate history of jousting insults and difficulties._

_Then again, she was speaking with an enemy as hard-headed as Alucard._

_“Millennium was defeated, the crusaders wiped out and London was in shambles. The rebuilding process is still in order. Many innocent lives were lost along with others who fought.”_

_“Yer eye was among one of those losses, then…?” Anderson spoke._

_Integra didn't miss the condescending sneer in his voice._

_“As what usually occurs in war...there were casualties.” Integra turned her cigar over slightly between her teeth. The smoke continued to rise and plume about her platinum bangs._

_“What about Iscariot?” Anderson could not hide the urgency in his voice. “What about...did anyone make it out alive?”_

_Smoke curled from the embering end of Integras cigar as she removed it from her lips. She took a long exhale with a cloud of smoke, her gaze drifting to the side. The Hellsing commander looked as if she tasted something bitter in her morning tea._

_“...Yes. Your precious Iscariot organization lived to lick its wounds. Would it please you to know you were a great loss to their ranks?”_

_“What does it matter? If...my sons and daughters of Iscariot still carry on t’ this day... am happy t’sacrifice my life in service to God…”_

_“Only you didn’t.” Integra returned her cigar to her lips. “You cheated your Gods’ hand.”_

_“Perhaps…” A fire had begun in Anderson’s voice, a volcano building its molten earth, “ If he who is forsaken by his lord accursed in his being, then let him praise th’lord for he hath still retained his fayth- if this is th’ path set for me t’walk I WILL walk it- I WILL NOT COWER IN MY SENTENCE LIKE SOME SPINELESS HEATHEN LOT!”_

_“WATCH YOUR TONE, FATHER.” Integra raised her own voice in show of authority, or perhaps to speak over Anderson who had hacked up a clot of blood in his outrage. “You are no longer under the protection of your Pope-of your precious Iscariot organization. You are as good as my prisoner, only you will find I am patient enough to treat you far better than a prisoner deserves.”_

_A silence hung like a heavy gas in the room. A single spark could ignite it. The quiet was only punctuated by Anderson’s sharp breaths._

_“You are in my care. You will respect my authority along with the men and women of the Hellsing Organization.” A shadow crossed her face as a sigh slipped past her lips._

_She removed her cigar to let it rest between her fingers. The Head of Hellsing’s remaining eye became veiled with a solum glance. The wrinkles that began nesting on her face became more apparent._

_“And while our crown Vampire's help is...unavailable-“_

_“Unavailable?” Anderson immediately echoes._

_“Unavailable.” Integra repeats flatly. The issue was not open for investigation. “You will find Seras Victoria has made a fine replacement in his stead. Should I learn you’ve fancied to harm my people she will put you back in this hospital bed faster than you could spit your fucking Hail Marys, are we clear?”_

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Integra bowed her head in a strange silence, broken only by how the thorny vines that churned and ground against the crying wood of the mansion’s guest room door.

She could not forget these thorns. They uprooted the Millennium War in her mind and the divine battle between a demonic and a holy monster.

A memory of a squabble between two hollow children.

She doesn't want to think about it, but, there was a very chance by bringing Father Anderson to the mansion was akin to keeping a live bomb in its halls.

“Seras.”  
  
The young vampiress turned to face her master. In that moment, Integra’s breath caught in her throat. Such a timid vampiress when she first joined Hellsing’s ranks, now Seras Victoria had bloomed. The girl had cultivated a foreboding image now, the demonic energy that was her right arm twisted and flickered like a sentient void in the dark.

Integra had Mr.Bernadotte to thank for Seras’s steps as well.

 

“Sir Integra?”

  
  
The Hellsing commander gave a nod. “Go. You have my permission to do what you must to get out alive.”

Seras responded with a curt nod and took steps to approach the tendril ridden door.

Rather than use its handle to enter, Seras simply stepped through with her shadow.

 

         - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

 

The room feels cold. Thorny vines had traveled along the floor and up the walls. They covered paintings and curled around the windows. All of the thorns writhed as if in agony.

_These are the thorns that nearly burned us both...myself and…_

A sound interrupted her thoughts. It is the voice of Alexander Anderson.

From the bed where he lie, he muttered something feverishly in a strange fit.

Seras deduced quickly he was unconscious. He had left the medical wing too soon. Fever dreams could be a symptom following of the trauma of the full body regeneration Anderson had undergone.

 

“Do not be afraid, for th’ Lord God goes with you, he will nev’r leave nor forsake you...” (1 )  

 

Seras stood statuesque, hearing the Paladin utter forth verse of the holy book.

There is no surprise in her when Seras traced the thorns to see they lead to Anderson. The darkness of night had no sway over her sight. From where she stood, she could see the vines twisting out from a specific spot on the Father’s body.  
  
Thorns bloomed forth from his chest.

 

“Th’ lord is at my right hand, Iy will not be shaken...” (2 )

 

 _I must wake him._  The Vampress’ brows furrowed in her steel set determination, _I have to wake him before he can hurt sir Integra or anyone else._

The flowing void in Seras’ right arm breached over to her shoulder, soon painting the rest of her body in a crimson otherworldly sheen. In this form, Seras became shapeless: a living shadow no longer bound by earthly tethers.

A flowing mist, Seras gracefully slipped over the vines to the side of where Anderson lay.

Without a sound, Seras re-took her shape.

Her plan was simple enough, to reach Anderson with her right arm and to succumb his mind to a placid state.

Such a reaction was a defensive measurement from the paladin’s body. No, not his body, the Nail of Helena within Anderson’s heart.

An internal thorn of her own settled in Sera’s chest.

How did men become monsters? The same way as she?

Alexander Anderson had been mostly complicit during his time at the mansion. It was a facade. The very facade Alucard wore. She had scarcely seen it break.

When the facade did crack, it bled tears.

Cautiously, Seras crept forward and extended her ethereal arm towards the father’s temple.

It happened quickly, too fast for even her vampire eyes to catch. The thorns found her limb and began to coil around its flickering energy as if it where tangible - as if a hand had shot up and grabbed her wrist.

Seras choked on her cry of surprise.

No, she couldn’t wake Anderson suddenly, it would be dangerous. Yet now, she shut her eyes and braced her frame and waited for the holy flames to spark at her demonic contact.

Nothing.

No flames. No white hot searing divine fire.

The thorns held Victoria’s arm still in a warning.

She acted upon the first thought that came to mind.

 _Please…_ Seras begged the vines that twisted around her arm, _Please, I won’t hurt you. I promise. But this has to stop._

For a moment, Seras could have sword the thorns considered her plea, they loosened their hold around her ethereal arm very slightly.

_I won’t hurt you. I promise, you have my word. I want to help._

Ages could have passed until the thorns slowly withdrew from the Vampiress, coiling and winding back to their host.

 

‘For he guards th’ course of th’ just…” ( 3 )

 

 Steadily with careful intent, Seras’ right arm stretched forth. Sections at its formless end parted to resemble a hand.

 

“ ...and protect th’ way of his faithful ones…” ( 3 )

  
  
Close. Closer. She only needed to come in contact with his flesh. 

Alexander Anderson’ eyes snapped open.

The thorns retracted with incredible speed into their host.

The paladins features shifted into the rage he bore when slaying anything unholy in his path.

  
  
**“AAAAAAA-MEEEEEENN!”**

 

Sera’s back cracked the stone wall when her body was strong-armed against it with a slam. Anderson held her in place with an arm, his hand clutching her neck with a fierce grip.

Emerald sharp eyes pierced her with a murderous intent.

Seras drew up her legs reflexively with a hiss and kicked them forward with all her might as to send the vampire hunter stumbling back. He reeled in his uneven footing.

“Stop now!” Seras nearly snarled her response, something primal rose from her throat at the attack. “Stop or I’ll bloody kill you!”  
  
“Seras!”  
  
The room’s door was kicked open.  Integra herself had arrived.

 

**BLAM!**

 

The sound of the shot vibrated in the room.

Blood spattered the walls and windows.

One moment, Anderson’s shoulder doesn’t have a hole in it, and the next a bullet’s torn through it.

No sooner is the wound made do many thorny tendrils burst forth from the opening before sewing back inside the Paladins body. The wound healed as if it had not occurred.

The room silent. Integra’s gun and cigar smoke wafted gently about as a haze.

Every member present can hear the other's sharp breaths.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ( Deuteronomy 31:6 )  
> 2\. ( Psalm 16:8 )  
> 3\. ( Proverbs 2:8 )
> 
> The Castela Emoryi is also known as ' The Crucifix Thorn. '


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More. Not sure where its going but Im still writing so...hey!

It started as a chuckle, soft in the back of his throat.  
  
Then, Alexander Anderson threw back his head in a full chested laugh.

 “Really now!?” He gave a jackal grin, wide and toothy. In a show of being unharmed, he brushed off his shoulder with a hand. “NOW y’want to pick yer fights Hellsing?”

"What I WANT is for you not be perilous and to keep your bloody hands off my staff!” Integra fired back.

 To Seras Victoria it was almost as if she was watching the incident fallout behind glass. The two shouted and roared and the moonlight flowed in through the blood splattered window as a spotlight. It all nearly seemed staged.

In no possible scenario could Sir Integra have forgotten about the thorns that caused a wooden door to squeal on splintering point against their grasp.  

“I don’t know what in hell you’re goin’ on about! But now y’show yer TRUE face Hellsing!” Alexander’s grin nearly seemed too wide for his face. “Aye, ye brought me back but how wise was that on yer part? One ill turn deserves anoth’r Iy suppose!”

“I would have no issue returning you to the abyss, Papist!” 

 

A flick of Anderson’s wrist and a flash of silver steel caught in the moonlight.

  
**  
****“WAIT!”**

  
  
Seras’ voice silenced the room; a blanket thrown on a fire to try and smother the flames.  
  
“Wait...please, sir.” Seras addressed her master, “It isn’t how this all looks!”  
  
“So, you are saying the broken stone of my mansion behind you was not from this brute trying to put you through a wall?” Integra frown in disbelief, her cigar’s end dipped.  
  
Alexander himself seemed surprised at the young vampire’s sudden interruption. His brows knitted and he lowered the bayonet in his hand. His eyes focused behind Seras to look at the cracked cobblestone wall. Bits of stone were still shifting in small crumbles.

“I…” With all three eyes upon her, Seras’ resolve trembled. If only for a moment. “ Sir, I wish to report what I saw on my entering of Father Alexander Anderson’s room this night when we found a disturbance at said location.”

  
“Disturbance…?” Alexander looked from Seras to Integra to Seras again. “...Have you gone insane? You two burst in-” He pointed his bayonet to Integra, “-Babylon's guns a’ blazin’ an’ you say there’s just a disturbance?”  
  
“No sir, I am quite sane. I think what I should report to Sir Integra is worth your hearing as well.”

Now all eyes were on Integra, waiting, to give the command for the vampress to report.

Cigar clenched tight in her jaw, Integra exhaled a jet of smoke out her nose. It was an engine that smoked steam upon coming to a halt. “Go on then.”

  
Seras nodded gratefully. “Sir, I believe that Father Anderson was merely taking defensive measures. The entire situation was not under his control.”

“What?” Anderson’s brows were high on his head, taken off guard.

 “And…” Seras hesitated, “...And I feel the thorns were of the same reason, sir. The Father’s regeneration is not yet fully complete, his body was also on defense.”

  
For a moment, Integra was in thoughtful consideration. A slender finger rested on just the tip of where her cigar was between her lips.  
  
“What...the bloody hell is going on here?” Anderson snarled, directing his anger at Integra. “What is she goin’ on about?"

  
“Thank you, Seras.” Was all the commander said, her stance returning to something of nonchalance as she holstered the gun in her hand.

 “Do NOT ignore me, heathen.” Anderson spat, a wildness flashed in his eyes, much like the bayonet in his right hand, “What is the girl’s meanin’?”

A lazy, content look returned to Integra’s eye. Anymore threats on Anderson’s end were no longer any concern. To the commander, the Paladin was a dog making a vicious display at the end of his chain.

“It means you aren’t well, Father Anderson.”

The response was met with another laugh from the Father. 

“If iy didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re both mad.” His fingers wrapped tighter around the bayonet handle. “Have it your way! _Do not think I have come to bring peace upon the eayrth! I have not come to bring peace...but a..swor..d..._ ” ( 1 )

Anderson’s grip became slack on his weapon. It clattered to the floor loudly, sending small mirrors of moonlight on the ceiling. The Paladin himself soon followed, his knees hitting the floor with an audible ‘thmp!’

“What…” Anderson swayed in his spot. His head was spinning. Spots swam before his eyes.  “What have y’done...t’me…”

The Paladin keeled over like a tree trunk. He was unconscious once more. 

Integra could not help as she shook her head. “Blow-hard.”

 “Sir?” Seras questioned, crimson eyes wide. 

  
“With all of what you said, there was no doubt his body was at breaking point. Five days. The man comes back from dust and expects to be well in five days.”

Integra smothered the embering end of her cigar between two gloved fingers. “Carry him if you please, Seras. Unfortunately we do owe our Papist guest an explanation of tonight’s events.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

 _“Sir Integra!”_  
_  
The young Integra Helling turned to address her caller. It was one of her men aiding in the cleanup of London now that the war had ravaged the city_.

_Buildings still smoldered and fires still burned. Ash rained like a light snow from the black smoke sky above. The shadow’s of bodies burned forever into the brickwork._

_“Yes, soldier?” The commander answered, her hands clasped behind her back; her long coat rested on her shoulders. Over her left eye, a large bandage was wrapped._

_“Sir, normally the men wouldn’t want you out and about on the streets like this…”_

_“The men have no say over my actions. Besides…” Integra gaze drew to the ashen bricks at her feet. “...I will not leave my men to soully clean up this mess. We are responsible as well.”_

_The soldier’s mouth forced a smile of acceptance._

_“Sir! Sir Integra!”  The voices of other soldiers called the commander. “We’ve got something!”_

_On her arrival, Integras eye slowly swept the area of interest from behind their single glasses lens._

_  
_ _It was a light soot or dust scattered on the brick street. Some pieces were still whole, shattered bits like smashed pottery. She could not help relate it to some form of art, the shavings of paint that had been scraped off a canvas._

_Shavings that gathered around a center piece._

_“Is that…”_

_The Nail of Helena kept its soft greenish glow. The steel still painted with the blood of its former host. The barbed wire spiraling the outside held a few pieces of viscera from what remained of Alexander Anderson’s heart._

_“How could they miss it…?” A suited agent asked in awe._

_“On purpose...that’s how.” Integra said. “The nail had been used to make a monster. It is no longer a pure relic.”_

 

 _Integra stood quiet. Her eye never left the nail, observing and feeling its strange presence. She made no motion when she saw a piece of the muscled pulp in the barbed wire pulse. It throbbed like the heart it once was._  
_  
_ “Take it back to the mansion.” She ordered, turning away with a sweep of her coat. “ And leave it in the exact condition as you found it. Blood and all.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Anderson’s hand closed like a cage over the crater-like rooted scar above his heart. His fingers slowly retracted to a tight fist, the whites of his knuckles showed through.

“Yer saying...th' relic is still inside me?”

“Yes.” Integra Hellsing answered.

She sat in a chair placed across from the clinic room bed. Her hands folded neatly in her lap and her eye focused on the Paladin seated shirtless on the clinic bed.

Seras herself was positioned against the clinic’s closed door. The vampress remained a sentry for her master. She would be able to cross the room in a single dash to get at Anderson should it be needed.

“You came from the relic. From nothing more than a sinew of tissue.”

The paladin said nothing.

He was very statuesque, his head bowed slightly to cast a shadow on his features. His round spectacles caught the light from the ceiling, an indecipherable shine cast over the lenses.

 A stomp from the heel of one of Integra’s boots ended the silence. 

 “Alexander Anderson! You chose your fate the minute you plunged the Nail of Helena into your heart. You are no longer flesh and blood - you are blood and thorns and miracle. A monster. Holy or not, you will not be able to return to Iscariot. There is no room for monsters of any kind in the Vatican!”

  
  
“ **I WAS A BAYONET!** ” Anderson roared with a slam of his fist on the mattress. “ An instrument of divine punishment!

If my life and humanity is forfeit

for Iscariot,

for my kin,

for God

to keep vile monst'rs like your Dracula from tearing them to pieces….I would gladly become an abomination in a heartbeat.”

 

The room felt oddly quiet. A pin could drop. A spider could be heard scurrying on its legs.

 The Commander of Hellsing straightened in her seat, taking a cigar from her shirt pocket.

 Seras stood where she was commanded. Her own remaining hand balled into a fist. Her own features were shadowed in the doorway. She nearly bit her bottom lip with a fang hard enough it would draw blood.

 “Whatever you did, it wouldn’t have been without consequences. ...Death or not.” Using a small guillotine like tool, Integra cut the top away from her cigar. “Father Anderson, you must only ask yourself what will you do now.”

Another ghostly quiet pause.

"What are you saying Hellsing?” The Paladin shot a deadly emerald glare to the woman across from him.

A sound of a lighter. Its flame flickered forth to singe the cigar’s end.  
  
**Click!**  
  
Integra snapped the lighter top closed with her thumb.

  
“Join us. Join the Hellsing Organization.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ( Matthew 10:34 )


	5. The Prodigal Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson gets a guest. 
> 
> \--WARNING FOR SELF HARM----- It occurs in this chapter so, just a heads up.

  
“Say what?”  
  
“The choice is entirely up to you, Father.” Integra stated, her tone was open in the discussion. “As a monster unwelcomed by the Vatican, I offer my hand to you. Join the Hellsing organization, Father Alexander Anderson.”  
  
No answer from the Paladin.

“You have always been an expert monster hunter we could always use--”

“Join? Join you? Join you and your heathen lot? You- youre vampire who’s a joke - a sorry replacement for the grand original. And you, protestant whore, I would be at your beck an’ call? Your newest mongrel pet that heels on command? Listen well, Hellsing. By the grace of God, I will have nothin’ to do with your worthless, second-rate organization.”

For what feels like a pause that stretches in eternity, the Paladin and the Commander exchange glares across the room.

“A ‘no’ would have sufficed.” Integra replied flatly. 

With a loud clatter and bang of the clinic bed being overturned, Anderson rose to his feet in a rage. In the same moment of his action, Seras was positioned infront of Integra. Her eyes held daggers for the Father, as if to dare him to make another move.

Anderson stood in place, his chest heaving audible with angry breaths. He jabbed a pointed finger to the door.

“Get th’ hell out. Now. Before I take you up on your challenge Vampire.”

The sound of Integra’s boots on the floor was deafening. Without a look back, she opened the clinic door. 

“Seras. We’re going.”

While her Master continued her steps out, Seras could not help but linger. She watched as Anderson turned his back to her. With a grunt he re-flipped the bed back to its upright position. He re-smoothed the sheets with a hand.

“I sayid leave.” Anderson growled.

“With...all due respect Father, I think you could fit here well. Perhaps...you being here with us is fate?”

Anderson bent again, picking up the clinic bed pillow from the floor. He straightened his back, and remained silent. 

“I just…”

“Go vampire. Before your master yanks your chain.”

Seras bowed her head in defeat. Her ethereal arm curled and flowed as if to mirror her thoughts. Turning, Seras made her way out of the room. She made sure to close the door behind her.

  
  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

Two days pass.

Anderson does not leave his room in the Hellsing clinic under the mansion. Seras continued to stand true to form, spending most of her time guarding the rooms outside should the priest decide to emerge.

Yet in the two days past he does not.

Seras perked in expectation one day when the door handle shook to announce the Fathers exit. The door opened and the Paladin looked out at the young vampire.

“You people keep towels ‘round here?”

“Sir…?” Seras blinked.

“Towels. For th shower.” Anderson repeated, no mirth in his voice.

“Ah-yes! Of course!” Seras nodded, “Just a moment.”

Anderson watched the vampress sink into her own pooling shadow on the floor. When Seras was gone, he stared at the spot briefly before closing the room door once more.

He only got a few steps away when a knock rapped on the doors outside.

When he was alone once more, the Father took it upon himself to use the shower in the bathroom that was attached to his clinic room.

Warm water fell from many holes in the showers ceiling to patter on the stone floor below. It was fancy, fancier than he needed but it would do.

Anderson anchored his weight on a hand he propped on the showers stone wall in front of him. Water cascaded on his neck and down his broad back.

It was all done in static. A blank state of mind until he caught sight of the hand he used to prop his weight on. Anderson straightened his back, holding the limb closer to him now.

He looked at its front, turned it over to look at its underside. Rolled his wrist and flexed his fingers at the end of his hand.

Then curiosity got the best of him.

Anderson reeled back his arm and smashed his hand forward against the stone shower wall. He held back little strength. In the center of the spiderweb crack that impacted in the solid stone, his hand exploded. A hollow POP-CRACK echoed in the confined area when his elbow blew out.

“Mmmm….!” The Paladin bit back a pained sound that might alert the Mansion.

He lifted back his destroyed limb slowly. Blood ran down the spider web in the stone, as if after the rain. It pooled a deep, thick pink around the drain.

It didn’t take long. A sound of thick vines winding met Anderson's ears. The thorns returned, churning up from under his flesh like muscle itself. He watched, mesmerized almost, as the tendrils flowed about as they went to work recreating his hand and arm.

Soon, with a squeak-like sound from the thorns tightening like muscle, Anderson’s arm was completely restored as it was before.

He flexed his fingers. They worked perfectly.

He rolled his wrist. It was no different.

He turned his arm front to back and found no flaws he wasn’t familiar with in the first place.

Blood and thorn and miracle.

A heavy sigh heaved up from his scarred chest as the Paladin rested his forehead on the cool cracked stone in front of him.

“We didn’t expect this...did we?”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Anderson had just finished the final button on his darker colored undershirt when a sound like a whisper swept in from behind him. His head turned to look over his shoulder in alert.

“Good Evening Father Anderson.”  
  
It was the little Draculina.

_Calm down man, you’re jumpin out of your skin for nothin.._

“What is it?” Anderson asked, trying to hide the sound of annoyance that she caught him off guard.

“Sir, if you would like, would you accompany me upstairs? There is a visitor who I think you would very much like to see.”

He paused, mulled the offer over once or twice in his mind.  
  
“Alright then. I’ll be out in a minute.” Another pause. “And next tyme use th’ goddamn door.”

It only took a minute and here she was, waiting ever patiently when he exited the clinic room. Was this all she did now that Alucard was gone? Just wait on Hellsing hand and foot?  
Hellsing dog indeed…  
  
“Lead on.”

At first, the Paladin suspected he would be accompanied by the vampress alone. He was wrong when the elevator door opened with two suited agents standing parallel to the sides.

He wanted to comment. Sneer something about the organization being this truly scared of one man? ...Monster, he corrected internally. No, he bit his cheek and entered the elevator doors. Seras waited until the Paladin was inside between the two agents before she too stepped inside as the doors closed.

No words were uttered until they reached the Mansion’s ground floor. Anderson was back in painted halls adorned with old paintings and victorian lamps. The company made little noise on the carpet centered floor.

The Father could not help but glance at the young woman beside him. Again, he mauled over saying anything but found the walk had been too damn quiet for his liking.  
  
“Victoria, is it?”  
  
“Yes, Father.” Seras responded simply.  
  
“So how did it happen? How did that monster make you one of his own?”

She was silent, not even her steps were heard, until Seras made the decision to speak up. 

  
“Well...he killed me.”

“He what?”  
  
“Ah-no!” Seras objected when she spotted the light cast a murderous gleam over the Father’s round glasses. It made the two suits beside him tense with unease. “It wasn’t so straight forward. You see...he let me choose.” A veil passed over her normally bright crimson eyes. “I...could have died, yes. But he gave me a chance to be something…” Her voice softened, “Something more than what I was.”

Seras waited for the Father’s response. No doubt it would be chastising her own choice. To tell her how she openly accepted the demon’s gift; to live a life cursed by God. Yet the vampress heard nothing. The Paladin only continued to follow beside her. 

“If...If its not to offend Father,” Seras looked up at Anderson and took the gamble with her words, “You...sometimes remind me of my Master. There's something….similar….?”

Words died on her lips under the sheen of the Paladin’s lenses. She braced, waiting for the holy rage that would explode from the Father for her making such a blasphemous statement.

It didn’t come. 

“Between you an’ me lass…” Anderson said after a moment as if making a confession himself, “ You’d be callin’ me a liar if said some part of me didn't miss that bastard too.”

Seras’s face lit up with a smile that could glow. It was brief before she allowed her face to become stone once more. It was unprofessional to show such an emotion to the enemy. Yet, the corners of her lips tugged upward slightly at the Father’s honesty.

The double doors to the Mansion’ lobby opened and the party stepped through.

“If you would wait a minute or two Father, I’ll invite our guest in.” Seras said as she left the room through another door.

Her absence left Anderson and the two suits alone in the room. It was fashioned well, made to be comfortable yet professional for a meeting of such a figure who could be invited to the Hellsing Mansion. He stood patiently and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Take a seat, gentlemen.” Anderson said to the two suits who’s backs were straight as rulers. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

When the two suits remained still as if the Paladins words had blown over their heads, Anderson gave a sigh. 

“Stubborn bloody protestants…”

The door Seras Victoria had left through opened. She stepped in again before moving aside to allow whoever was entering inside. Anderson watched passively from behind his spectacles as they entered.  
  
His expression shifted to one much softer upon sighting the company.  
  
“F...Father Anderson?” Heinkel Wolfe gasped, their torn jaw hung open,pale blue eyes wide.  
  
“Heinkel.”  
  
For the first time during his stay at the mansion, Seras saw the Paladin’s sharp eyes melt like glacier ice into tame green pools.

Iscariot’s finest assassin stood as if in headlights before rushing quickly into the open arms of their teacher. Anderson embraced his student fully as they buried their face into his chest.


	6. The Judas Priest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this one. Anyway here you go

Heinkel’s pale blues searched Father Anderson’s face. Their brows knitted before they began patting over Anderson’s arms, reaching for his shoulders to touch. Anderson stood patiently, waiting for Heinkel’s realization to come.  
  
“How you...you ver dead! I saw it...you turned to dust Anderson! Itz not possible!”  
  
“If it ain’t possible then what am I doin’ standing here in the first place?” A gentle smile was on Anderson’s face and affection in his tone.

It was something quite new for Seras to experience. A side of the monster hunter that wasn’t hostile or wary of the less than holy around him.

“Anderson! Zhis isnt a time for jokes! Zhis...iz serious! Itz…”

Heinkel’s words slowed when Anderson gently took their face in his palms. He turned it to the left, then the right, inspecting carefully. Gently, he ran a thumb along Heinkel’s scarred cheeks, torn open by the werewolf’s bullet.

“What happened? Who did this?”

With a grunt, Heinkel pulled away much like a child losing their patients with a doting parent. “It vas a casualty! Zhose happen in war Anderson!”

  
“Aye, they do, an’ you’ve weathered it well. Looks t’me like you’ve become an Iscariot assassin worth reckonin’ with.”

Heinkel took in a sharp breath as if to speak but it died in their lungs.

Seras could see it. The Iscariot Assassin's fists where balled tight, their frame trembling. She wondered if Anderson had noticed yet.  
  
“Fahzer Anderson...you ver thorns! Nothzing but thorns! ….Thirteen years Anderson…”  
  
“Ey, stop that. I’m in front of you now. So tell me, how bad were we hit after th’ war? I’d like to hope th’ majority of our people were spared from limbo that day.”

None of the Paladins words seemed to unwind his student. If anything, they looked as if a single touch could make them crumble. Seras blinked, her current rival, the fierce top assassin of Iscariot, was looking at their boots as if they were a child again.

“And Yumi? No doubt she is doin’ Iscariot and th’ Lord proud as well. Speakin’ of which, where is the lass? ….Heinkel?”

The Iscariot Assassin stood straight, nearly at attention. They looked up at their mentor, steeled as ever. “Iscariot carriez on, sir. V-ve are re-building, but still stand as ze Vatikan’s protectors until the end-end timez. God haz not abandoned his faizful, Father.”  
  
“I’m relieved. By God’s grace he will not leave those who stay at his right hand. Let his wings be a fortress for his weary.”  
  
“Yumi is dead, sir.” Heinkel spoke directly. Said with forwardness of a soldier, a bitter weight on their tongue.

 

Silence and Stillness.

 

“Yumi…?” Anderson echoed.

“Y-yes sir.”

It was said, the statement had confirmed it, solidified it like a brick into reality.  
That brick was thrown at Anderson and hit him square in the chest. The brick hit Heinkel harder.  
  
“She was a noble daughter of Iscariot.” Anderson put his hands on his student’s shoulders softly. “Do not cry for those who find peace in death. She has triumphed by the blood of the lamb, and did not love life so that she would shirk from death.”  
  
Heinkel said nothing.

Anderson kneeled slightly to look his student in the face. “We don’t grieve those who aren’t lost--”

“Come back vith us Anderson!” Heinkel burst forth, “Come back to Iscariot, to Rome!”

“You know I can’t do that Heinkel.”

“Damn zhem! Damn the Vatican! Vhat do zhey know?!”

“Quiet.” Anderson’s snapped. “I won’t sit back an’ let you slander what Iscariot died to protect.”

“F-forgive me, Father.” Heinkel relented quietly.

Another stillness before Anderson took one of Heinkels hands. He placed it solidly over his own heart and held it there.  
  
Seras observed as the Iscariot Assassin’s expression went from confused, to a solid understanding and then to a dawning horror. When Heinkel moved to back away, Anderson did not stop them. He let their hand slip from his own.  
  
They opened their scarred mouth to speak but shut it tight. Don’t say it. Heinkel couldn’t say it, if they said it, it made it real. It solidified it. Another brick.  
  
“Iy can’t return, Heinkel.” The paladin spoke softly before he stood.  
  
“V...very well Fahzer Anderson.” Heinkel said after a slow inhale. “ I vish you God’s mercy on your soul. Az after zhis moment...you are a threat to Iscariot. If our soldiers shall cross you, you are our enemy.”  
  
The Paladin stood tall. The light caught in his glasses.

“I must take my leave, Alexander Anderson.” Heinkel stood firm, unmoving.

The student then made a decision before all was set in stone. Heinkel removed the golden cross that hung from their neck and held it outward to their teacher wordlessly.

Anderson looked at Heinkel, and walked over to him. He took the cross from his student’s fingers.

“Spoken like a true soldier of Iscariot. Amen.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Integra whisked open the curtains covering the ceiling high windows. It let the morning light in as the dawn was just beginning. It was to be another day.

Well, was it another day with the Father about?  
Integra could only hope the visit from his precious Iscariot tied some loose ends and caused some closure.

The Hellsing head had just taken her seat and prepared a fresh cigar when she heard sounds erupt from the main entrance to her office. The noise was muffled by the closed double door, but not enough for her to be unable to make out the words. 

  
“Stand back!”

 

“This is a restricted area!”  
  
“You can’t go in there without clearance!”

  
“Stop! Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  
  
BANG!  BANG BANG BANG!

“Don’t go any further I’m warning you--”

 

 **SLAM! BANG! CLATTER!**  
  
The final crash came from the splintering of wood from the doors to Integra’s office as a boot was put through it.

 

Walking with each step as if in a puddle of loathing, body smoking with healing areas from bullet wounds, the golden cross swinging from his neck, Father Alexander Anderson entered.

“I tried to stop him, sir!” Seras called out as she popped into the broken door frame.

“Good morning to you too, Father Anderson.” Integra’s remaining eyebrow raised. “For your sake, I hope those men are alive--”

“It’s a deal.”

The commander blinked at the Father’s words. “Pardon?”

  
“It’s a deal. I’ll join your two-bit organization, but on my own terms. I ain’t gonna be lickin’ your bloody protestant boots, however.”  
  
A smile spread onto Integra’s lips as she put her cigar between them.

“And what would those terms be, Father?”

“One. I ain’t your mongrel pup like your goddamn vampires.”  
  
“Yes.”

“Two. I don't need a bloody escort.”  
  
“Done.”  
  
“Three. You will give me any an’ all information regarding Iscariot that comes into Hellsings hands. Anythin’ that your spies pick up, your agents find, Iy have access to that information.”

  
“...Agreed. Welcome Father Alexander Anderson to Hellsing.”


	7. Kyrie Eleison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter ive written yet. I was going to break it up but I said fuck it.  
> Writing my own adventure plots n such not in the original content was something i was never good at so, heres trying to give it a shot.  
> 

 

  _“Father, if you would, Sir Integra would like you to be present for this meeting. To...give you a proper introduction? ...Father?”_

_Alexander Anderson sat on a stone slab in the back of the Hellsing Manor, where the ground’s garden lies. A breeze swept gently over the perfectly tended grass and into the hedges making sarse leaves scatter. A celebration of the evening in the fall._

_That breeze makes Alexander’s trademark long coat tails stir._

_“Aye…” He responded simply._  
  
_“Out here for any particular reason, Father?” Seras asked, a bright tone, hoping to ease any lingering tension._  
_  
_ “‘Not gon’tbe kept up in a manor. Not one to be confiyned.”

_Anderson twisted something thin between his fingers. Seras blinked when she saw it. Three pale blue flowers were nested among the small pine-like leaves._

_“Rosemary, Father?”_

_He held up the small branch to look better at its pale flowers._

_“They say th’ Virgin Mary put out her blue cloak on a white flowered bush. ‘Turned the flow’rs blue while she rested.”_

_Seras knitted her fingers together thoughtfully. It always seemed like she was taking gambles with her words around the Paladin. So far, she had walked away lucky. She wanted to try that luck again._

_“Father Anderson...I was there during the Millenium War. I saw your battle with my Master. What, if I may ask... happened when you used the Nail of Helena?”_  
_  
Anderson released the Rosemary to tumble away from his fingers in the breeze._

_“Power is a funny thing, lass. There are tymes...it runs through you hot like divine hellfire. And you can only watch from a deep playce...as it makes your moves for you.”_

_The wind came blowing in again, more than a breeze this time. Andersons fingers now rest on the golden cross that shined around his neck in the evening light. More leaves departed in the wind as the sun continues to set. The festival is over, now the night comes._

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



“Let’s get on with it, Hellsing! We’ve been a month over it. Iy just need to know what I’m after and how I can tear it to bloody pieces.”

Integra looked up with her remaining eye from her papers. Report papers of the latest supernatural incident occurring in London.

It had been a little over a month since Father Alexander Anderson became an unwitting member of the Hellsing Organization.

‘If it brings you comfort, think of it this way.” Integra had told the Paladin with a gleam in her remaining eye. “You are a monster in the company of monsters. You belong here.”

With a sound 'thwap', Integra Hellsing drops a file on her desk in front the The Father. Her cigar coiled lazy smoke around her platinum bangs.

“A threesome. A pair of grave robbers and their wraith. However, it is their target that would cause the most trouble. Re-rising a werewolf who was beheaded after devouring an entire town. She took their resident souls as her enteral capture.”

As the commander spoke out the mission, Alexander took a look at the files himself. That familiar fiendish smile began to spread on his face with each page turn.

“Three demons of th’ heretical ordar?” His emerald green eyes flashed to the commander, a clear hunger in them, “What’s this? Am I bein’ rewarded for good behavyor?”

“If that is how you choose to see it.” Integra leaned back in her chair with a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth. This man...how he reminded her of Him sometimes. “You have been rather well-behaved on your parole, haven’t you, Father?”

“Y’keep givin’ me work like this, Iy miyght make a habit of it.” His jackel grin remained.

“You are to deploy to England. To a museum in London. Good luck, Father Anderson.” The commander re-seated herself in her chair, steelping her fingers and looking to the Paladin.

“God does not show favoritism. All who sin apart from the law will also perish apart from the law, All who sin under the law will be judged by the law. AMEN! ” ( 1 )

With a sweep of his coat tails, Anderson moved to leave the office of Sir Integra.

A pause followed, waiting until the sounds of the Father’s boot steps were out of range.

It was when there was total stillness did Integra speak.

“You may come out, Seras.”

Out from the shadow of a corner of the room, the vampress seemed to appear as if through a crimson fog. Seras Victoria approached the desk of her Master, she too bore a smile of delicious anticipation. A smile that was fit for the past crown vampire himself.

“With the information you just heard, I have a job of your own for you.” Integra removed her cigar from her lips. “Shadow the Father. Do try your best not to be seen, but if you feel he needs a hand...please don’t hesitate to offer one.”

Seras gave a bow, her normal arm draped across her mid-section to complete the ceremonious gesture. “As you wish, Sir Integra.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

“Ah...this is the one innit’?” A human-looking man leaned over the coffin encased in reinforced glass, his long nails clinking delicately on the display top.

His pale skin, almost pale blue in shade, stood out among the encompassing dark of the museum. His yellow pupiless eyes glowed through the holes of a copper mask. The mask he wore was crafted to be in an eternal mourning yell.

“Is this the one, Carlyle?”  
  
The small man looked over his shoulder for his accompaniment.  
  
“Are you finished in there? Don’t worry about it, you’ve done great. Let Lyrin do the rest if someone comes knockin’.”  
  
A human-shaped figure moved in front of the large arch of marble that lead to the room its compariot was in. It walked soundlessly.

Though it was barefoot, it made no footprints. It wore a mask of dull silver where its face should be. Despite its mask’s expression of a child’s playful joy, it was on top of a body of rotting shadow. A cloud of darkness misted off the head like a stink.

Despite its human anatomy, something feral remains in its movements.

Looking past the wraith, the little man craned his neck, his yellow eyes showing through the crooked eyes of his mask, his pointed ears perked.

The forms of the bodies of the late night security littered the floor. Some hung from the second floor railings. A child was done playing with their toys and throwing them about the room. 

“Yeah...you did a very good job. A Good job.”

The wraith continued past its accompaniment, taking its turn standing by the reinforced glass enclosed stone coffin. It seemed almost curious. 

  
“So is this the one? The one the wolf’s in?”

The small man asked the dead shadow.

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
Anderson had a scent to him when he was human. Now, with such a scent of blood and miracle, Seras could not miss the Paladin’s location.

The vampress shadowed through the night onto the roof of the target museum. She took care in materializing herself, not to make herself completely tangible.

Creeping along the tiles, she stopped at one of the large skylights that peered down into the museum. It allowed her to see to the first floor, as well as the second floor and its rafter-like layout that contained books. If a guest had wanted, they could lean over the rail of the second floor to peer down on the guests moving below.

 _Someone has already made themselves at home_ , Seras gave a sound of distaste as she could see what remained of the night watch tossed about the first floor below.  

Simple, Seras could slip in easily and be undetected while Anderson hunted his main course.

Peering deeper, the vampress caught a view of one of the said ‘main courses.’ 

She was a limber creature. Her long straight hair curtained most of her face. She occasionally would brushed this hair aside to show she wore a bright silver mask adorne with markings. The masks face was made in a worried expression.  Two very large yellow orbs peered out from eye slits much too small for them.

It was humanoid for the most part, though stretched and willowy.

The creature sat on the 2nd floor, just above a railing. In her long fingered hands, resting on the rail for support, was a scoped rifle. Along its barrel strange enchantments to ward away evil were painted.

 _Those are for demons…_ Seras squinted, _Do monsters expect vampires killing other monsters…?_

This first grave robber Seras saw was no doubt a look out, or a support for the job. Backup.

This would be easy.

Seras could be as a wall shadow, a predator the robber would never see coming. The creature would be incapacitated in seconds.

Seras moved forth to pass through an opening in the glass skylight, and a shock of golden power lit her frame like lightning.

She bit back a surprised cry.

A spiritual barrier? Where? How? 

Looking closer, Seras spotted the Paladin’s golden pages  fluttering through and pinning themselves to walls.

Anderson had started his attack.

All the while, Seras was unable to enter the building, and looking through the glass outside.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

The small man looked about wildly as golden pages whirlwinded in and pinned themselves to the walls of the museum with protruding nails.

This was not the work of anything unholy, something divine was coming to stop them.

The small man crept away from the coffin display, his eyes two shining yellow souls shown from behind his copper mask. Slowly, his long fingered hand hovered over the revolver holstered to his side. 

“Divine or Demonic…” He challenged this new foe, sharp teeth now bared, “ You have your chance to leave alive, or I’ll feed y’to my wraith. Only one chance.”

It was a soft noise, the sound of boot steps on the museums marble floor. They became louder as the owner got closer. The small man watched in the dark, and he saw the gleam of a cross, swinging with every step of its wearer.

“If thou do that which is evil; Be afraid; For he bearth not the sword in vain; For he is th’ minister of God, A reveng’r, To execute wrath upon him that does evil.” ( 2 )

A quick flash and the cross’s glow was accompanied by the silver light of dual bayonets. As Anderson stepped into view of the robber and it’s wraith, he swiftly slashed one blade across the other to form a christian cross.

When the two bayonets clashed, they threw sparks.

  
“Praise to our Lord!”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Outside, Seras could spot movement from the second floor.

The other robber was changing position, lining herself to be a ready support for her fellows.

She peered with her owl eyes behind the mask into the scope, watching. Waiting. 

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“You’re him ain’t ya?” The small man now folded his arm. The copper mask on his face caught the light, appearing like a strange phantom in the dark. “Saint Guillotine.”

“Correct.” Anderson responded, “An instrument of God, a blade from on hiy, come to slay those who would avert their gaze from God's ord’r.”

The masked man took some steps backward closer to the encased coffin. He then spoke to his wraith.

“Go get him.” He drew his revolver and released the safety, “I’ll cover you.”

The wraith’s leapt to meet the Paladin’s blade, and the room burst with light. The dead’s unholy claw meeting the divine blessings on Anderson’s bayonets, ignited blue sparks to surge forth from the contact. 

The wraith could hold Anderson back, prevent the Paladin from slicing it through with a single riposte of his blades.

A third shadowy limb of claws sprung from the Wraith to swing a wide arch at the Paladin. Anderson stepped back with a quick swing of a bayonet to severe the third arm.

 

 **BANG!**  
  
When the wraith’s arm fell from its body a bullet was fired, tearing through Anderson’s own upper arm.

The robber was indeed providing cover for its undead pet.  
  
No sooner had the wound been made on the Paladin’s body did it close with a surge thorny vines.  
  
“I heard you were a regenerator,” The small man mused, “But they must’ve injected you with something special. Or is it God’s work?”  
  
A screaming cry echoed in the museum before the wraith was upon the Paladin again, swinging as it shrieked  from behind the mask.

When the wraiths long claws would catch the Paladin’s flesh, the vines would be there to restore the damage.

Bullets were peppered in between the wraith's swings from the small man. Anderson was able to withstand the shots or deflect them.

Snapping an arm down to his side, three bayonets slid from Anderson’s sleeve to his waiting hand. An attempt to even the odds.

He threw the three blades in tandem, three gleams in the dark. Two sunk into the marble wall, a third sliced the small man’s hand with it’s razor fine blade.The slash made the small man drop his weapon with a spurt of blood.

As if noticing its master’s pain, the wraith howled in rage. Its once controlled swings became more aggressive and predictable.

It made Anderson’s work all the easier.

From each swing of his blades when Anderson could carve a piece of the monster off,  that same piece would return in a smokey burst.

“You aren’t your everyday wraith, ar you?” Anderson grinned, “You can last for some fun...However!” 

A flash of blue flames at an impact of his holy blades against undead claws ignited, and Anderson struck out to gain distance from the ghoul.

“You are a vile creature in the eyes of God, And I will send you to all the fires of the black pit!”

Eyes gleaming with vigor, Anderson bore his trademark grin.

“ Your mast’rs have been feeding you well!  How many souls do you have for your pow’r? After all, isn't that why you’re here...”

The Paladin glanced at the masked small man from a gleaming round spectacle.  
  
“To feed th’ long dead flesh that bloody werewolf to your monstrous pet!”

Behind the mourning mask of copper, the small man’s face was held no mirth.

“You want the best for y’own child.”

“What?” Anderson couldn’t help speak his surprise. 

The reveal left the Paladin  distracted and open.

Claws honed to a wedge-like point, the Wraith plunged a hand through the Paladins stomach and out the other side. Blood cascaded down its arm and formed a sizeable puddle on the marble floor.

Snorting a splash of blood from his nose, Anderson struck down with a roar using his bayonet, and severed the Wraiths arm while still inside him.

It made the creature shriek, and step back quickly as another limb smoked onto its body for replacement.

A child? This undead creature was born using the resurrected soul of a child?!

Flames of anger and retribution churned and stung in the Paladin’s stomach. It felt something similar as to when he pulled the wraith’s arm from his gut.

More thick red splashed on the floor. It was beginning to look as if it belonged in an abstract display on the museum wall.

 

“You…!” Anderson hissed, bearing his teeth in an angry grimace, “You would take an innocent soul!? You would transform it, into a monster to walk th’ earyth before my eyes!”  
  
He threw down the wraith arm beside him. Upon hitting the floor it broke into smoke.

Winding to repair his insides, the thorny vines churched and creaked audibly.  
  
“I WILL NOT ALLOW IT!” The Paladin roared as he slashed the edges of his bayonets against each other. Sparks flew forth, just as bright as his rage.

“Th’ son of man will send out his angels, And they will weed out of his kingdom everythin’ that causes sin and all who do evil! They will throw them into the blazin’ furnace, Where there will be weepin’ and gnashin’ of teeth! The rightous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Fath’r!” ( 3 )  
  
Anderson almost quoted his verse with feverish rage before he ran for the small man in the copper mask. His bayonets primed to cut away the flesh of his enemies.  
  
“WHOEVER HAS EARS, LET THEM HEAR--!” ( 3 )

  
**  
BANG!**

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Seras could have sworn that single shot echoed through all of London.  
  
She watched from behind the barrier.

The click of a trigger pulled from long, nimble fingers, guided by a scope with owl-bright eyes.

The bright silver mask with slit eyes did not seem to affect her aim in the slightest. 

The round exploded from the barrel and sailed forth, straight through Alexander Anderson's skull.

Red and bits of visera bursted from the Paladin’s face. Part of Anderson’s head was missing, a red mess.  

A blooming flower of brilliant red blood rose from the head shot.

Sera’s own crimson eyes were wide at the sight. It was all going bad.

She needed to get down there, and quickly. She couldn’t let the Paladin take so much fire, especially when…  
  
What happened next made her breath catch and hold.

Anderson began to fall forward, his body slack, until one of his boots met the ground firm, and re-asserted his footing.

The red that rose from the destroyed half of his face had continued to move upward against gravity.  As the crimson color reached higher, it gradiented to a shade of green.

Large spines grew off from the sides in uneven jabs.

Tendriled thorns writhed and squirmed up to the heavens.

The sniper woman’s eyes could go no wider. She peered around her scope, her jaw dropping to show her sharp teeth. 

  
“Its…” She began.

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  
  
“...not possible…” The small man below finished.



 

This was no regenerator.

 

No matter what sort of upgraded healing they could inject into monster hunters, the head, was the head.

The brain, was the brain.

Any simpleton could guess when the brain was gone, and the blood spilled out, no amount of healing could fix a body far beyond repair.

No.

No, this was not a regenerator.

The masked man thought as he was unmercifully pulled aloft, spread by his arms and legs, by vines.

A woven noose of thorns wrapped around his neck.  
  
Seras punched away through the barrier’s shock. She nearly had the glass broken, her ethereal arm wearing down the barrier.  

Seras glanced up and then time seemed to move slow. 

The copper mask clattered loudly to the floor.

Glints of fractured silver light flew. The man was then punctured by as many bayonets as his body could hold, a pincushion of holy blades. He nearly looked to bursting.  

Perhaps, he actually did burst when the thorns pulled him in all directions.

 

“MIKAL!!” The woman creature screamed.

She screamed the same horrible cry as the wraith. 

Seras finally burst through the skylight in a rain of shards, falling.

Why did she wait? Anderson was not some inexperienced exorcist, he was the pride of an organization. 

He didn’t need her help...did he?

_“And you can only watch from that deep playce...as it makes your moves for you.”_

His words came to her mind.Then the memory of her master burning in holy fire flashed behind her eyes.

The Paladin needed her help now. 

  
Clicking in a new round, the woman creature quickly looked through the scope of her rifle again.

  
“Die! DIE, DIE!” She screeched and her slender finger pulled the trigger.

Anderson’s body seemed to eat the round. It passed through him, only for its damage to be nullified by vines.

Full rounds fired were shielded by knots of red vines.  

Anderson turned to the source of the fly biting him. His remaining was eye an empty, unresponsive  green.

Thorns continued to twist where the right of his face should have been. 

“YOU WILL DIE--”  
  
The female creature took her last look through the scope. She saw the sharpened point of the vine coming through the looking glass.

 

Seras looked up in time to see the long tight-wire of thorns before it retreated to its host.

A body fell from the rafters, crashing on the marble below in a puddle of blood. Soon after, a bright silver mask followed suit. Among the cracks, one of the masks slit eyes was punctured through.

“Anderson!” Seras turned and yelled to the priest. The same priest who was a writhing divine power contained in the body of a man.

A Monster of God.

“Stop!” 

She dashed forward with inhuman speed, her flowing arm stretched out and snagged hold of any part of Anderson.

No sooner did the limb wrap around his arm, a pack of thorns lashed out and snapped the energy clean.

The thorns crawled to meet her, and her heart clenched. Her body locked in terror.

This was...the Millenium War. The churning vines, the holy flames, they would come soon for her. 

“Anderson!” She screamed, and lashed out at him again. Her crimson arm split and roped around many sections of the Paladin.

_No, I’m not your enemy!_

She pleaded with all her inner self. Seras Victoria concentrated all her essence into her ethereal arm to get through the angry  thorns. _This has to stop! Please!_  
  
A rope of thorny vines struck out, and wrapped around her human arm.

She cried out in fear and tried to pull away only for the vines to tighten their sharp grip.

  
“F-Father Anderson...you...you said you became a bayonet! We-everyone  lost in the war…!”

Seras’s looked desperately to the priest at the end of the vines. What was recognizable of his face was a blank rage. Unseeing.

In her position from him, she could feel it. The presence of the Nail of Helena spreading its disease fueled by the priests rage.

“You...haven’t lost me! I survived! Heinkel survived! We’re still here and-and so are you now!”

The Flames.

The scorching holy fire.

She would be burned only as one of the many demons he hunted.

Another purged vampire.

Seras Victoria held her breath.  
  
_Master…_

 

_……………._

 

_You’re callin’ for that bloody Count t’save you?  Iy thought you were a vampire who knew better Draculina..._

 

…………….

She felt no fire burn.

Seras snapped open her eyes.

The vine still held onto her arm - as if a hand grabbed her wrist. 

“Father Anderson...” Seras sharpened her resolve. She took gambles this far with the Paladin.

She pulled in and grabbed the thorns wrapped around her wrist. The spiked tips pierced her flesh but she held tight.

In that moment the vampire and the Paladin were joined. Green thorns and a crimson voided arm restraining the other.

“Let...me help!”

Vines twisted and wound, creaking like wood as they ground together in a long pause.

Her deep sanguine eyes looked into what remained of Anderson’s own. It was almost a challenging stare. 

She felt it, as if a snakes spiked choke hold was loosened. The dark thorns uncurled from her wrist. It waited to be released by the vampires own hold.

“I can help. “ Seras spoke firm, she gave the vines a squeeze enough to draw blood through her glove onto the thorns.  

Withering back, the thorns returned to Anderson. Most shriveled back under his coat, retaining an area very close to the priest’s body.

In return, Seras ethereal arm slowly released Anderson. The crimson void gathering as a swath beside her.  

She paused.  
He was...looking at her?

Seras focused on the recognizable side of the Father’s face.

She moved slowly,and approached him closer.

Her arm lessened its flow of energy. It would be a very good time to not look so much like a vampire at this moment.  
  
“I’m not your enemy, Father…

 

...not anymore…”  
  
Anderson didn’t move, save for the ever twisting green and red thorns under his coat and around his head.

If Seras could see correctly, the thorns were repairing the Paladin’s skull. Another eye had become visible, looking down at her.  
  
Carefully, slowly, Seras kneeled down.

She reached, and picked up the Father’s circle glasses from the floor.

When she approached, she found she was holding her breath.

No, she wasn’t afraid. They were not enemies anymore. 

Seras was close enough now, to see the golden cross around the fathers neck, and the sharp, alert emerald green in Anderson’s eyes.

“Father…?” Seras asked hopefully.

She extended her arm slowly and uncurled her fingers from around the glasses.

The vampire held it out like an offering.

The Paladin’s hand reached out, and Seras flinched.

Andersons fingers closed around his glasses as he took them.  

“F...Father Anderson…?”

Something resembling pride for the vampire glint briefly in Anderson’s eyes. They were ghosted over, becoming tired, seconds later. He then turned his attention on the remaining task of the night.

Seras moved warily up to his side, peering around him. 

  
It was crying.

The wraith was holding the arm that remained of its ‘father’ and it was crying. Strange whimpered sobs left its smoked corpse. It seemed to want to become small, curling around the limb. 

“It’s...cruel. What could make someone…” Seras' words slowly died. She knew exactly what could make someone perform such an act. She knew that exact spiral of deep endless longing.

Anderson’s steps forward broke Seras from her thoughts.

She noticed how the priest’s face was looking less like a writhing crop of vines. His features were returning to that of his own.

A shining bayonet dropped from his sleeve into his hand. A single sword.

He approached the wraith and spoke.

When his voice came, Seras found it strange. As if multitudes of Anderson’s voice came from one throat. 

  
Perhaps,the thorns spoke with him too.  
  
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, And death should be no more, Neither shall there be mourning, Nor crying, Nor pain anymore, For those things have passed away.” ( 4 )

 

It took only a slash of gleaming light from the bayonet blade to behead the wraith.

The dull silver mask looked up to the sky, the undersides of its eyes were wet.

 

“Amen.”

 

“...Amen.” Seras echoed softly.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. ( Romans 2:8 - 12)  
> 2\. ( Romans 13:4 )  
> 3 ( Matthews 13:36 - 43 )  
> 4 ( Revelations 21:4 ) 
> 
> ( Kyrie Eleison = Lord, Have Mercy )
> 
> ( Was also inspired by Pinwheel from Darksouls and the museum fight in Hellboy because hellboy is good )


	8. Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are again.  
> Anyway here it is

Another dark car from the Hellsing Organization pulled up to the front of the London Museum. It was one of many, others belonging to agents who arrived to clean up and inspect what remained of the scene after Hellsing’s more, ‘trumpcard’ Agents had swept through.  
Most would say the level of ‘swept through’ these special agents left behind would scale with a contained natural disaster.

Clean up procedure was established with England’s government. The supernatural was real. People were living alongside it. Draw a line between the two and keep it sound. A calm populous was a happy populous. ( Particularly after the War.)  
Police would arrive soon after Hellsing was gone to perform the usual staged investigation.

The car door opened, and a driver agent stepped out. Straightening his tie before he closed the car door, he approached the sidewalk outside the museum where the two Helling agents were taking a moment’s reprieve. 

“Seras Victoria.” He spoke upon getting close enough.  

The vampress sat on a wooden bench, her demeanor seemed deep in thought. Seras’ crimson eyes took a moment to leave the ground to find her addresser.  
  
“Oh, yes sir.” She let him know she was present.  
  
“Alexander Anderson?”  
  
The Paladin stood behind the bench some steps away. His back was initially towards the street but he turned to look at the agent who called his name. Anderson scanned over the man behind his slightly crooked glasses before he also replied to meet the headcount.  
  
“Aye…”  
  
“A car is waiting to return you both to the mansion.”

Seras rose from her seat quietly to follow the driver back to the vehicle. 

“No. I’ll walk.” Anderson said with a declining hand motion.  
  
Seras stopped, looking back to The Father. She felt it sincerely unwise to leave The Father in such a state on his own. If not dangerous to him, it could be dangerous to others.

As Anderson began to walk away, the vampire called his name.

“Father Anderson!”

He stopped, turning. Seras Victoria stood by the car’s open door. She gave a small wave with her human hand.  
  
“Forgive me if it’s too forward Father, but would you ride with me please?”  
  
Alexander nearly seemed genuinely confused, blinking behind his spectacles. The young lady would feel comfortable for him to remain three feet from where she sat, never mind a few inches next to her in a compact vehicle.

“It...would make me feel better if you did, sir.” Seras added.

He paused. Anderson yielded with a heavy sigh through his nose, and began taking steps to where Sera’s stood by the car door. He motioned with a hand for her to get inside as he came up alongside the vehicle.  

Seras slipped in the backseat before she was followed by the man twice her size.

The door shut and the headlights ignited. The engine softly rumbled as the vehicle reversed out of its parking spot before driving onto the street.

Inside, Seras looked out the window at the museum. Many Hellsing hands moving about, in and out to complete their task of gathering as much information as possible before police arrived. She withdrew, leaning back into the fine leather seat. Out of curiosity, she glanced to the Father who sat beside her.

Alexander looked more cramped then he would have liked, his knees nearly the level of his chest. His arms were folded while his head was bowed. The Father’s eyes were closed, his brows furrowed as if in an unpeaceful place of mind.

Seras was quiet. She looked down to her hand, where she had spiked her palm on Anderson’s sharp thorns. It had healed slower than usual. The vampire could only guess it was due to the contradicting state of their power.

Slowly, she curled her fingers in and rested her gaze back on the priest. 

“Are...you doing alright, Father?”

“Mmm?” Anderson lifted his head, he blinked at Seras as if taking time to remember where he was.

“Oh, er…” He cleared his throat, “...Heads’ killin’ me.” 

“F...from the…?” Seras curiously made a wavy, wiggly motion with her fingers around the right side of her head.  

“...I’d image so, yes.” The Father dead-panned in return.

She wished she bit her tongue on that one.

Seras nodded once, withdrawing to her spot on the window. The two had only just come out of a job that could have cost them...well her life. It was perhaps not the best thought that went through her mind to act on.

A quiet moment went by, only punctuated by the steady hum of the engine and the wheels rolling on the street.  
  
“It hurts like it did before…” Anderson revived the conversation, perhaps he felt he owed it to the young lady. “When Iy woke at th' Hellsing Mansion.”

“I...can see how that would be the case!” Seras returned almost too eagerly. “ Your regeneration...I would have thought it would have hurt more then.”  
  
“It’s a different type of hurt, I think.” Anderson spoke casually, a rarity for the vampire, “Coming back from th’ bottomless abyss is...nothin’ that could be replicated outside of limbo.”

“Ah…” Seras’ paused before speaking thoughtfully.  “I...when I became a vampire, and my Master, he shot me. I think...I’ve felt that pain before…”  
  
The vampiress didn’t realize her words had softly dwindled off her lips until she looked up. Her eyes were met with Anderson’s glare that could make any undead stain their trousers in flight.  
  
“Ah! I…I mean to say…!” Sera’s recovered quickly. “I’ve come back, from that abyss before, Father. I think, I can understand what you mean.”

Whatever coldness that was in Anderson’s eyes softened. He gave a huff of amusement. At the same time, a smirk tugged at his mouth.

Seras could not help the sudden pride that bloomed in her heart. It wasn’t a confession, but she took it as a sign of approval from the usually untrusting Father.

She then remembered a thought.  
  
“Father Anderson,” Her sudden urgency drew his direct attention. “I know… I have asked you a lot of questions during your time here...but…”  
  
She held her breath briefly before speaking,

“What happened at the museum, was it like the Millenium war? When you...used the nail…?”

The Paladin’s face became distant, as if looking inward. Anderson let his weight lean into his seat, his hands were clenched tight on top of his legs.

For a moment, Seras felt he would not answer.  
  
“It was th’ same...but diyfferent. A white hot divine pow’r...an empty rage…” His gaze had fallen to his hands, looking them over slowly.

The Paladin closed his palms tight. “An’ then you.”  
  
Seras blinked.

Anderson’s demeanor seemed to change in an instant. A familiar wariness and confusion appeared as frustration in his grimace.  
  
“A vampire...makin' me come to my senses.”

Seras wanted to speak when the car came to a smooth break. No sooner had the engine died did Anderson leave from his car door, shutting it behind him.

The driver was about to open the vampress’ door when she hurried out herself.

Seras still had something to say.

“Father Anderson…!” She called after him attempting to jog to catch up with his long strides.

  
“ It truly dosen’t matt’r, does it.”

Anderson had come to a stop in the middle of the pebble lain path that lead to the Hellsing Manor front. His back to the young Vampire. She slowed in her approach.

“Like that bloody count said...In the name of th’ divine or the holy...a monst’r is a monst’r. A monst’r belongs among monst’rs…with no place among God.”

“Father-“

Seras was cut off by the sound of a laugh growing in Andersons chest. A laugh she had heard many times when she use to be hunted by the Paladin himself.

“Iy - hy-!” His laugh transitioned to words, “-was supposed t’be dead!”

Anderson turned on Seras in a blink, a manic look to him that he often wore while cutting the heads off demons.

“Now lookit me! I’ve joined with th' enemy I fought t'stop- Iy DIED t'stop! An’ for what?! A bunch of bloody Protestant monsters! An’ I didn’t even beat that bastard to the end! Alucard! That monster who burns while I’m standin’ here on eayrth! What a fool I am!”

Anderson let loose another almost crazed laugh, his head thrown back to the sky.

“A fool who abandoned his God for pow’r! And gained naught for his efforts!”

“That’s not true!”

The Paladin froze. His mad demeanor fell and he straightened himself to his full height. Anderson began to move towards Seras with deliberate steps.

“Oh? Is that so young lady?” Mocking venom filled his voice.

Seras did not budge when he was looming over her, his slightly bent glasses flashing in the lamp light of the Hellsing grounds.

“If you have an opinion on th’ matt’r _please_ . _Shair._ ”

Seras closed her eyes.

She straightened her posture and held her head high under his gaze.

In that moment she was taller than the Paladin.

When she opened her eyes, a look of sly assurance glazed them.

“For a good Catholic , Father you don’t very much believe in faith do you?”

Anderson was a mountainous statue in shadow. His lenses a gleam from the sun.

“What are you on about?”

“Faith. The feeling of the very undoubting, unyielding truth in what you believe in. ...What do you believe in, father?”

“I am a servant of God, an instrument of a hiygh’r pow’r.”

“If you are such a faithful servant, you would doubt your God's plan for one of his finest holy blades?”

Seras could feel the radiation of rage that was emanating from the Father but something compelled her to tempt danger further still.

“Did you not think perhaps this was part of his plan? Despite what your Vatican friends say, a monster of God is still a monster that belongs to God, wouldn’t you agree?”

“ENOUGH!” Anderson roared.

With a deep inhale, he reigned in his temper quickly. Lowering such boiling rage to a high simmer.

“Hold your tongue, young lady.” He hissed. “Or I’ll cut th’ bloody thing from your impure mouth.”

Seras only smiled pleasantly with her lips before she said, “I hope I’ve left you something to think about, Father.”

The vampress walked by the Father who’s back was straight as a flagpole. She moved lightly, a cat on its toes.

“Sir Integra is inside, Father. Let us not keep her waiting.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

“Using the soul of a child to create a wraith.” Integra stood in front of one of the ceiling high windows in the dining room in mansion. Her back was to the table that stretched from one end of the room to another and looked quite bare.

She took a long drag of her cigar, something solum in the action.

“They were either extremely cruel...or desperate.”  
  
“Why a child’s soul, Sir Integra?” Seras asked, she stood across the table from her master. Not a few steps behind her, stood Anderson, looming.

“For many reasons.” Integra explained, “A child soul can be a blank slate. Its life has not yet truly begun, so, it is much like any young creature - if you would. I am not sure this was the meaning of these two grave robbers. However, they were feeding it extremely well…”  
  
She paused and turned to look at her agents.  
  
“Anderson you have been awfully quiet, and here I would expect you to be more upset about my ordering Seras to follow you.”  
  
“Nothin’ t’be said about it.” Anderson nearly sounded like he dared Integra to tell him otherwise.  
  
“Oh, I disagree, from what Seras has told me, there is much to be said, Paladin.”

Integra put holes in Anderson’s bluff as easily as she would have with any handgun.

“I heard God’s Monster had some trouble.”

“A slip-up... I hardly expected I’d be sendin’ a child’s soul to limbo that day.”  
  
“And something else.”    
  
“By all means my lady, lets put a bullet in that pretty head of yours an’ see how well you can perform.”

Integra stepped up to the table, resting a hand on it before she removed her cigar from her lips.  
  
“Father Anderson, I would say it was a good thing I had Seras accompany you.” She then sighed, a look of resignation shadowed her remaining eye. “Father, if I suspect you cannot control yourself…”  
  
“I’ve not tried.” The Paladin spoke honestly. “This...thing, this relic, seems to act on its own. I just carry it as a host.”  
  
“Wrong.” Integra’s voice came down like a hammer of judgement. “No, you don’t want to control it, Father, that would mean you own it. You would own your title as God’s Monster.”

  
“You listen here...” Anderson began before in a swift movement the commander  unholstered her gun and brought it down with a slam on the wood table surface. The action dispersed all the noise in the room.

“If I shot you in the head here, Father, could you say that it wouldn’t start all over again? No, you are a liability until you can control this thing properly. You made this choice Anderson. You abandoned your humanity. You simply do not ignore the monster now.”

As the sound slowly began to filter back into the room, both Seras and Integra looked to the Father for his response. Anderson stood, his circle lenses gleaming in the light. To Seras, it seemed like he wanted nothing more then to dare Integra to pick up her toy and watch how fast she’d lose her hand.

“What would you have me do, then?”  
  
Seras felt she could breathe again.  
  
“Seras will accompany you on any assignment from this point forward. She appears to have an effect to keep you from burning everything a city block in holy fire.”

Integra lifted a single finger. She then returned her cigar to her lips before speaking.  
  
“Should you harm her there will be no crevice you could hide in-The Hellsing organization would come for your blood. Another monster for us to hunt. Is that clear?”  
  
“Perfectly.”  The Father said, his eyes still obscured behind his shining lenses.

He then turned swiftly with a sweep of his coat tails and made for the exit. The sound of his boot-steps faded into one of the many halls of the Hellsing Mansion. In his wake, he left the Vampire and the Commander.


	9. Treva Dei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this one??? I was fun to write this unstable truce / dance hellsing is currently playing with Anderson.
> 
> ( note: I’ve always canoned Integra as v gay thank you but that’s just me )

A quiet night settles on Hellsing Manor. In the long, many halls, no sound is made. Nothing creaked or settled in the manor foundation, walls or the floor. Moonlight flooded into the ceiling high dining room window and across the table that sat the length of the room.  
The mansion was a pond at night, its dark waters placid and undisturbed.  
All was very still and very quiet.

Alexander Anderson had retreated to a room in the mansion that could be described as ‘ballroom like’. The large wooden floor was laid bare, save for off side areas where guests would rest when they tired of dancing. A rounded single stage on one side of the room held a single, black piano. Behind it, a small curtained performance stage, just big enough for musicians to play.

Arched windows let the moonlight flow in.

The Paladin sat on the stage edge, his fingers knitted as he rested his hands just below his chin in thought. He was statue of contemplation with glass lenses catching the soft silver light. He did not look up until the creak of a door opening made the only sound in the manor.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt your prayers, Father.”

Integra entered the room, with each step she took, the room made the sound sharp and encompassing.

  
Anderson lowered his hands slowly, his fingers still intertwined. He peered over a round lense as the commander moved across the ballroom towards him.

“Seems you found my hindin’ spot.”

“Please, this is my mansion. There is nowhere you could hide.”

Anderson straightened his back, feeling a tickle of irritation that made his jaw tighten.

“To what do I owe th’ honor of Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing coming to visit? Come t’torment me some more?”

  
“No, not this time.” Integra answered in good humor, “I want to talk.”

“Talk?” Anderson paused in suspicion, “About what?”

“You mostly.” The Commander was a few feet in front of the stage when she stopped.

“And if Iy should refuse?”

Integra’s expression was passive. She looked about the ball room before she spoke.

“Then I wish you goodnight and go on my way.” She directed her gaze back to the Paladin. “What do you say?”

True, Anderson could have ended it there. He could have told the Hellsing woman goodnight and each would have departed separately.

Only this woman was an anomaly of an arch-enemy. Something about her inscrutable nature tugged at him to want to learn more.

“Aye...I’ll hear you out, Hellsing.”

A light smile appeared on Integra’s lips.  
“Before we start, I have another request.”

“Which would be?”

“Dance with me.”

Alexander blinked.  
“Whot?”

She took a sweeping look at the ballroom, somewhat disappointed.  
“These floors haven’t been used properly in years. I’d like to hope they can still carry their dancers well.”

When Alexander didn’t move fast enough for her liking she cocked her head, her remaining eye smiled smugly.

“Step lively, Papist. I do wish to sleep sometime tonight.”

With an easy motion, Anderson stood from his spot on the stage edge. A look of curious interest raised his brows on his forehead.  
“Dancing with a fhormer enemy? You think this is wise on your part Hellsing?”

“I’ve had worse.” She scoffed.

  
Integra took a waiting position, an arm out in a modest invitation. Alexander stepped up.

“Do this often with your pet vampire, did you?” Alexander said as he took the lead in the closed position. He met Integras open hand in his own before looping an arm around her waist.

“On the occasion.” Integra told him, she placed her other hand on his shoulder. The vast difference in height felt nostalgic to her. “He quite enjoyed it. Let’s see how you fair to him.”

Anderson lead the first move. Integra followed the dance perfectly.

The only sound was their steps, each gauging the other, measuring their intent. The Paladin and the Commander circled in smooth motions and kept accurate footing.

“Hmm... I can feel it, do you know that?”

“Feel what?”

“The nail. It pulses for your heart, so I can feel it through your palm.”

“Is this all y’planned on speakin’ abowt?”

“No. Not at all. But it will come up in the conversation, I’m sure.”

Another quiet moment went by as the two continued to circle around the ballroom. The floors only squeaked slightly at their steps.

“Why did you ask me for Iscariot’s information? Are you so concerned about your fellow Catholics?”

“What d’you think? I’m an enemy of Iscariot now. How else Can Iy keep an eye out for my fellow soldiers?”

“Hm. A father to his men are we?”

Anderson chuckled at the term.  
“Those who joined from th’ orphanage? I suppose. Practically raised em m’self.”

 _That explains somethings..._ Integra nearly brought the thought to words but disposed of it quickly.

“Yet they would turn on this figure when he is a monster now?”

“They du’ what they must.” Anderson’s tone turned to stone, “They are th’ agents of God. One man is not worth such an act of blasphemy.”

“It seems very unforgiving for your Lord and savior, hmm?”

“A monst’r is an abomination to God’s kingdom. Something outside his realm he did not create on this erth.”

At his response, Integra’s eye veiled with antique pity. It was a look similar to all those years ago. All those years ago when Alucard wept blood for the Paladin’s foolishness.

“Father Anderson, there is a saying I am quite sure you’ve heard. It goes ‘In the slaying of monsters, one must not become a monster himself.’ I feel it’s use is quite adequate here.”

Their dance began to slow. It continued to dwindle to a stop as Integra spoke.  
“I have felt a monster is more a sickness of the heart than some physical devil. Evil always takes a tole. A tole that no confession or Hail-Mary can repair. How long have you faced monsters, Father Anderson? I would guess decades at least. Even before your death, you were the Vatican’s finest regenerator agent. How many times has evil imbibed in you?”

The two dancers had stopped. They did not relinquish their pose, yet they no longer swayed. They did not break eyes.

It made the ballroom quiet again.

“How many times have you fought monsters, lost beloved and witnessed evil deeds, Father? And when the time came to be rid of the devil himself...you relented. All your fighting for your God was worth the cost of your humanity.”

In a sudden flick of her wrist, Integra produced a small knife from her sleeve. The blade extended, she could reach enough to place its edge to Anderson’s neck.

“I would say your God gave you a shit hand.”

Anderson was still, his lenses gleamed over in the soft light. He didn’t move, but something from his neck slithered out from under the skin. Thorns crept forth from the open cut, tangling the knife in their hold. They continued their path down to wrap loosely around Integra’s own wrist.

The Commander felt the pricks of sharp thorns but did not feel any danger of being impaled or burned.

“I would also say your being here is no matter of coincidence. There are no such things as coincidences, Father Anderson.”

Integra let an entangled finger travel down the thorns slowly, to be pricked at the end. A bead of blood welled under the thorn before the droplet broke, flowing down the vine.

“There...an eye for an eye so to speak.” She commented, as her remaining eye looked expectantly for the Fathers next move.

As the thorns withdrew into the fine slice in Anderson’s neck he gave an amused laugh.

“Here we ar’ again, an’ you’re surprisin’ me, woman! Puttin’ a blade to your arch-enemies’ neck -thinkin’ you’ll walk away clean?”

Anderson barked another laugh, while undoing the close they took for their dance. He looked at Integra through a round lens.

“Your little draculina said somethin’ similar not but a few days ago.”

“Yes. You should appreciate the girl. She looks out for you more than I do.”

The cut was gone on Anderson’s neck, as if it never happened. Integra held her hand aloft, the crimson of her blood had leaked into her palm.

“So, I have to ask, how did I do in comparison to your vampire?”

Integra pursed her lips her eye looking to Anderson thoughtfully. Her unharmed hand came under her chin, as if to push the gesture.

“Close. Very close. Only his experience outlives your own, I think.”

“I would call favoritism if I didn’t feel that was th’ truth.”

The commander gave a light smile before turning to take steps to leave the ballroom.  
“Goodnight, Father. I think these floors are still fit for activity. You and Alucard would perform splendidly on them together.”

  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 

“What d’y’think you’re doin?”

Seras Victoria looked up and around at the familiar Scottish burr that came from above her. It was midday and Alexander Anderson stood at the back of the target practice floor in a slightly elevated stand. His hands were clasped behind his back, studying the vampress from behind his round glasses.

Seras relaxed her stance, looking to the Father with a confused frown.

“...what, sir?”

“What d’y’think you’re doin?” Anderson repeated the question, sounding like a reprimanding teacher.

Seras blinked once before raising the combat knife she held in her hand.  
“...practicing, sir?”

“Aren’t you more for guns, lass?”

“Well, a good soldier should be flexible in battle and a knife has many tactical uses, Father.” Seras didn’t miss a beat in her response, as if it was practiced.

Anderson began making steps down to the Vampress.  
“You’re nev’r gonta hit anything like that. Bloody Hellsing can’t do anything right.”

“Father?” Seras watched as Anderson descended to her level. He took his place beside her, and regarded her target. It was an uneven range of hits, most towards the center, some ranging on the outside the circle.

  
“Let m’see what you have.” Anderson held out a hand.

Seras handed over the knife in her hand steadily. Something wary lurked momentarily in her crimson eyes before it vanished completely. She placed the knife handle first in The Paladin’s hand.

He closed his white gloved fingers around the knife before holding it eye level.

Anderson looked at its front, turning it over he then looked at its back. He tossed it up once or twice and caught it again.

“Th’ handle is heavi’r than th’ blayde.”

“Yes...?” Seras made a face.

“Then y’know you’re thrown’ it wrong.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Anderson’s mouth. His green eyes shot a look at Seras from their corners.

“Im...what?!” The Vampire furrowed her brows. “How would you do it then?”

Anderson gave the knife a toss upward. It flipped with a gleam so the blade landed flat between thumb and the arch of his pointer finger.

  
“Y’throw it from the blayde when th’ handle’s heavi’r.”

The Vampire watched as Anderson lowered his hand to her.

The handle of the knife was forward for her to grab. She took  it, letting it sit in her hand for a moment. She then flipped it to the blade, catching it flat.

She reeled back her human arm and threw forward.

The knife spun bottom over top until -THUNK!

Seras smiled as the knife hit the center mark.

“You’re right! Thank you for that Father--” Seras turned to see The Paladin with a bayonet raised and shining in the light.

She nearly gave a cry when the blade went flying toward her-  
-Past her-  
\- And then twanged it’s sharp corner into the handle of Seras knife in the center mark.

“My blaydes are heavi’r than th’ handle. So thrown’ em’ from th’ handle...works best.”

“O...Oh…” Seras released a pent breath that shriveled her lungs. “I see…!”

“Now.” Anderson held out another knife to the vampire. “Try throwin it with your oth’r arm.”

Gently, she reached out with her ethereal crimson arm. It formed the shape of a human hand before it took the knife from the Father. Seras then held the knife eye-level herself, observing it briefly.

She chose her new target, and reeled back her arm. Her red eyes took on a soft glow, and she threw forward.

The blade sailed at bullet speed.

The target was a piece of tissue paper that held no resistance as the blade went through it and stuck in the wall behind it. She heard it land deep in the concrete.

Seras smiled brightly and turned expectantly to the Paladin who also had a grin on his face.

“You’ll be as much a fearsome creatur’ as Alucard in no time.”

  
The vampress couldn’t help but compare his face again to a similar expression he wore during his monster purges, or when he crossed with her Master.

A look of unyielding anticipation for the hunt.

“Miss Seras, Father Anderson.”

The voice of an agent broke them both from their stupor. He stood in the doorway, politely waiting for a response to show he had been acknowledged.

“Oh, yes sir? What is it?” Seras piped up, she was already moving towards the door.

“Sir Integra wishes to see you both. She believes she has something significant that would need the two of you.”

 

 


	10. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back again. Thinking of wrapping up soon after this arch? I’ll see how this ends but more than likely gonna try to wrap things up.

Integra snapped open her lighter.  
The flame ignited and flickered briefly, before Integra snapped her lighter closed again. Her remaining eye looked to her two agents, Seras Victora and Alexander Anderson.

“It is hard to say without overcomplicating.” She spoke slowly, someone trying to disable a bomb without losing their limbs. “Our target is quite experienced. Trained in the art of monster hunting through holy means. During his time, they held high rank in their organization. His new alias is ‘The Pure Exorcist.’ He believes Hellsing and Iscariot have it wrong in their methods and named them both his enemies. This ‘Pure Exorcist’ is now in our territory and he must be dealt with before he builds a cult to his ideals. “

Integra inhaled slowly, closing her eye.  
“There is another thing.”

Seras stood patiently infront of her Master’s desk. Anderson had his hands clasped behind his back, looking less patient, but at attention.

“This man is an ex-Iscariot officer.”

Any placidness on Anderson’s face turned into a scowl. “What?”

“He was involved in an incident a day ago. Killed five other Iscariot soldiers before he fled.” Integra withdrew a file from her desk drawer and placed it on the desktop. She slid it to Alexander foremost.  
“I held it from you Anderson, for good reason.”

“An’ what reason is that?” Anderson’s emerald eyes were sharp as one of his blades.

“Because I want your expertise in this assignment...however!” Integra leaned forward over her desk. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Bloody. Rampaging. In. London.” She tapped her finger with authority on her desk with every word.  
“I know you are…’passionate’ about issues with Iscariot and I want you to keep your head. ...In more than one sense.”

  
“You’re comin’ to me with this now? A traitor to Iscariot is a trait’r to God.” Anderson stepped up to the desk front, looming. “An’ I will do what Iy must as a blayde of God. An’ that entails makin’ sure this traitor of Iscariot sees th’ deepest circle of hell tonight.”

Integra furrowed her remaining brow, snapping open her lighter again and snapping it closed.      “I want damage to a minimum. I count on you Seras to keep our Paladin in check.”

Seras grimaced. “Sir...are you sure--”

“I have never been more certain. Anderson you will respect Seras’ orders as she will be heading this mission. You are her backup and her informant due to your knowledge of Iscariot. Do you understand me?”

The Father’s ground his toothy scowl before speaking. “‘An’ what if we should run into soldiers of Iscariot?”

“I think you know.” Intega sat back in her seat. She opened her lighter before snapping it shut.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Sir, there is the chance Iscariot wasn’t deployed on this exact incident.” Seras tried to ease the Father’s mind.

It was night and the two had entered what was believed to be the latest layer of ‘The Pure Exorcist’. He had been hiding out in an old abandoned railway under a decrepit part of the city. The entrance building was practically destroyed. Its pieces of tile and cement blocks strewn about. Nature was attempting to reclaim what it could, vines and foliage twisted and grew out of windows and up walls.

Bits of graffiti were sprayed about on some of the walls. Holy verses and words to ward away evil.

Seras sighed, her efforts to help Anderson’s tension had failed. The Paladin was on complete edge, and an anger radiated in his eyes behind his circle lenses. It was something Seras could understand. The Iscariot Organization was Anderson’s pride and joy. Most members he had raised himself. A traitor among Iscariot was an insult to Anderson himself.

She shook her head, the assignment was the matter at hand. Seras knew she could not get distracted. She headed this operation, after all.

With an agile leap, Seras vaulted over a barrier of concrete and metal. The layout of the station was dark, only spare beams of moonlight broke in through holes in the ceiling and shattered windows.

“You should leave them to me if a soldier shows, Father. In that way, you wouldn’t have to-”

“Young lady.” Anderson spoke up, his voice firm. It made Sears freeze. “Th’ gesture is appreciat’d, but...it doesn’t matt’r. Th’ outcome is th’ same. Be it your hand...or mine.”

Seras looked to the side quietly. She nodded.  
“I understand, Father.”

Anderson moved through the rubble, looking for a way down. This rouge agent wouldn’t simply be out on the ground floor. They would have made their nest down in the building - a maze to protect their location.

He moved to where two sets of stairs parted left and right from a middle platform. Each set seemed to go deeper into the darkness of the station. Upon the Father stepping forward onto the platform, a ringing sound went off.

The harsh beeping traveled all through the station, a repeated thunder clap of an obnoxious noise.

Seras was quickly at Anderson’s location.

“What is it…?!” The vampress noticed Anderson had moved through a metal detector, the device still clinging to life.

With a flash, one of the Paladin’s blades sunk deep into the mechanics. The alarm slowed to a deep drone before dying into silence. The vampress and the Paladin stood still in that moment.

“He’ll know we’re here now…” Seras whispered, moving through the detector to the platform where the stairs split.

“Then he’ll know we’re comin’ t’say hello.” Anderson responded. With two fingers he tapped the communication device in his right ear. “We’ll go separate ways here. You kno’ what t’do if you need me.”

Seras nodded. “I’ll take the left way down. If it doesn't lead to a seperate train platform, we’ll meet up I’m sure.”

The Paladin began down the right flight of stairs.

“Don’t set off any more alarms!” Seras told him, still hushed, as he departed. It made the Father stop and look over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up before continuing into the dark out of her view.

The gesture made Seras smile. It was something unexpected and gave her hope the Father was adjusting...if not slowly.

The dark was not a factor to the vampress. She could see clear as day in this deep, cold concrete labyrinth. The set of stairs she took led her to a hall that exited to a train platform. It appeared that it supported two trains, perhaps each going in an opposite direction. Sera’s sharp ears could hear the rats scurrying among the tracks and into holes in the underground walls, and the occasional drip of water leaking onto a rail.

She peered down a track, seeing the platform continued behind the stairs. Seras wondered if the direction The Father took put him on the opposite platform across from her, where the train would have ran in the other direction.

In a graceful motion, Seras leapt from the platform. It was only dirt, stone and rusted tracks below. Rats hurried away from the vampress, sensing a dangerous predator in the vicinity.

Seras inhaled, attempting to gain a hint of direction through scent. No matter what, this soldier had one thing a vampire could find blinded. Blood was in his veins and he had a pulse. She would sniff him out, hear the beat of his heart to track him down. A thought crept into her mind that made her smile sinisterly, would his heart dance faster as she approached?

The sound of safety being removed from a pair of handguns made Seras jump, her trance broken. 

“Don’t move, you monstr. Or I’ll blow you to hell.”

It was a voice Seras instantly recognized and felt two feelings simultaneously rise in her chest.

  
One, it was the voice of Heinkel Wolfe, a rival enemy to challenge.

  
Two, it was the voice of Heinkel Wolfe, a student to Father Anderson.

“Vat ze hell are you doing here Vampire? This is Iskariot buiznez only. I should kill you right heir for even zinking to interrupt.”

Seras held her hands a loft slowly in a mock surrender. “Only you’ve forgotten one thing, soldier. This is Hellsing territory, and you are not wanted here. It violates our standing laws.”

“Lawz don’t matter conzerning traitorz!” Heinkel spat. “Zhis man is ourz to take dead or alive.”

\-- _This is Father Anderson_ \-- The communication device in Seras’ ear buzzed to life. Anderson’s static voice came through.  
\-- _Where is your location, Serahs? These tunnels run fer miles, it’ll be impossible t’go through them without some head’r_. --

The hope that Heinkel wasn’t able to hear the device was dashed when Seras heard the sound of Heinkel’s breath catching. They froze, guns slack.

“Z...zhats not…”

  
\-- _Vampire. Answer_. --

“You can still go. He doesn't know you’re here.” Seras turned, facing Heinkel. A sudden urgency had fallen on the situation, an urgency that had nothing to do with the mission.

“Ar you mad-I cant go! You go! Before he looks for you and findz me!” Heinkel hissed.

“I can’t just leave, this is a Hellsing priority!” Seras hissed back.

“I vas here first, you monstr- you go!”

“No, you! Get out before he--”

“Befor he what now?”

The human and the vampress froze at the Scottish bur that came from above them.

Both looked up.

Standing on the platform above, Alexander Anderson regarded the two agents with inscrunity behind his round lenses.

 


	11. Sins of The Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are- continuing the arc. 
> 
> -self harm warning for this chapter-

“Heinkel.” Anderson spoke his student’s name.

Seras swallowed, what she hoped to avoid was happening now.

It had to be Heinkel, of any soldier Iscariot could have sent, they chose the most recent and closest of Anderson’s proteges.

She would have subconsciously stepped back from the situation if not for Anderson’s voice that dunked her awake in cold water.

“Where do you think you’re goin’? A soldier doesn't back down in front of th’ enemy.”

“S-sir…” Seras spoke up cautiously.

“You both should go.” Heinkel stood straight, their eyes hard behind their own glasses. “Zhis is Iscariot buzness.”

When no one made a move, Heinkel’s facade had begun to crack under their mentor’s steely emerald gaze.

  
“S...surley you know zhis Anderson!” Heinkel sounded exasperated, “He is an Iscariot traitor- this haz notzing to do with Hellsing!”

  
“Aye, I would agree.” Anderson spoke coldly as he leapt from the platform in a flurry of coat tails to meet the two agents. “But I’m not Iscariot anymore...am Iy? I’m goin’ t’go through with what I came here for. To collect the soul of a volatile trespass’r.”

He held Heinkel in an unwavering glare.  
“Now the real question is, what ar’ you goin’ t’do about that soldier of Iscariot?”

  
“An...Anderson you can’t be serious…” Heinkel’s jaw nearly hung open.

“You’re infront of th’ enemy now. What are y’going t’do?” Anderson stood as stone.

By now, Seras could see Heinkel was visibly sweating. Their heart was hammering in their chest despite their best effort to continue with a soldier's steady front.

Drawing both their hand guns in a swift motion, Heinkel pointed both a barrel at Anderson and at Seras. They grit their teeth in an angry scowl. 

  
“You vill leave. NOW! Or I’ll put lead in you monsterz!”

When no movement was made, Heinkel’s finger trembled on the trigger. Panic had risen beneath the surface and their scowl turned to a grimace.

  
“I mean it! I vill kill you both--!”

A glint of light flew by Heinkel’s head.

One of Anderson’s bayonets stuck into the wall behind them, it vibrated to a stop.

Heinkel’s face was one of shock, as if a trusted teacher had struck their admiring student.

“Where did that threat go, Heinkel?” Anderson’s words were dangerous. Three bayonets were perched in between his fingers on his right hand. In his left hand, a single bayonet gleamed.  
“You’re going defeat us weren’t you?”

Heinkel was frozen, a circuit blown. They stared in a strange horror at their once mentor, their face a ghostly pale in the dark.

“Iscariot does not shirk when th’ enemy presents itself! Soldier of Iscariot!” With a lash of his arm, Anderson sent another bayonet at Heinkel’s feet. It would have made contact had the young Iscariot soldier not jumped back.  
“Iscariot does not hesitate when th’ enemy appears! They leave their pray’rs on the wither’d bodies of their enemies- Shoot!”

Another shine. Another bayonet thrown.  
This one placed a cut in Henkel’s side as it whizzed by. The slice was not deep enough to meet flesh, but it cut through their Iscariot coat and garb.

“A monster is not of God’s kingdom, therefor it is to be crushed! Eliminated! Destroyed! Where is the Monst’r? Where is th’ affront to God?!”

-Shing!

Heinkel heard the next bayonet sing by their ear. They felt the sting of air enter the fine cut it left behind, sharp as a surgeon’s blade.

“YOU STUPID FOOL! YOU ARE AN AGENT OF DIVINE PUNISHMENT ON ER’TH! YOU ARE CALLED T’CLEANSE HIS KINGDOM AND ALL THOSE WHO DEFY GOD!”

Anderson’s roars sounded like battle cries, something of a madness had taken hold of him.

Heinkel was paralyzed, they barely gripped the pistols in their hands. The soft klinks of metal in the handguns knocked together as their hands shook.

The Father’s reflection shown bright in their own glasses.

“Father Anderson wait--” Seras tried to intervene when Anderson roared.

“PREPARE! BEHOLD!”

  
The Paladin did not summon more of his holy blades.

He reared his arm back, his hand held flat, as if it were a blade itself.  
With no resistance or hesitation, Anderson then plunged his hand into his own chest.  
A large spurt of crimson blood burst from the impact. Anderson’s hand was encased in his rib cage, blood running ample down his elbow to drip off the end.

“Anderson!” Seras yelled in alarm.

“Father Anderson!” Heinkel cried in horror.

With a pained grunt, Anderson withdrew his hand slowly. It was as if he was tugging, fighting another force to withdraw his hand.

Vines of thorns came forth, they grabbed onto his own wrist and arm in protest as he withdrew his own heart from his chest.

The heart beat in a pumping rhythm. The muscle crawled inside and out with thorns that attached it back to Anderson’s own body. Buried deep, as if the heart had grown around it, was the Nail of Helena. Every pulse of Anderson’s heart made the iron give off a soft green glow.

As he held it aloft in his own palm, the thorns continued to mass upon it, they tried with desperation to pull it back inside his body, protect it from such vulnerability.

“Here it is. This is the heart of a fool-THIS is the heart of a coward! One who would throw away his humanity for pow’r! The heart of a monst’r. ” Anderson’s voice didn’t waver as blood leaked from the side of his mouth.

Heinkel’s pale blue eyes were wider then their glasses, looking in a mix of beauty and horror at the sight before them.

“You are a servhant of God. Now smite his enemies.”

Heinkel swallowed hard.

Then, trembling, the Iscariot soldier raised one of their powerful handguns. Heinkel’s finger was placed on the trigger. The beating heart that was lined down the sights wavered in and out of the view of their shaking hand.

Anderson held his heart out for as an easy target for his pupil.

“He must hold firm to the trustworthy word as taught, So that he may be able to give instruction in sound doctrine and also rebuke those who contradict it. Amen.” ( 1 )

Heinkel’s finger was tight on the trigger at Anderson’s words only moments before their legs crumbled, and they came to their knees. Their arms fell to their sides, each gun clattered on the stone and metal of rail-work.

A pair of glasses dropped on the tracks.

Heinkel’s face was turned to the heavens, looking into the deep dark of the ceiling above.

“Forgive me, Father, for by being a zervant of God, I cannot kill a monzter thats iz also in ze zervice of God. ‘There zins and lawless acts I vill remember no more. Amen.’ ( 2 )

Heinkel’s words were encompassed in darkness and stillness.

Churning, the thorns twisted over the heart of their host. They still wished to return it to the safety of their masters chest.

Anderson was quiet for a pause.

He then guided his own heart back to allow it to return into him, and began to step forward to his student.

When the vines had near instantly repaired his self-inflicted wound, the Paladin knelt by Heinkel.

He combed a hand through their silver hair.

“You foolish child…” He spoke in a soft, solum disappointment that resounded to himself and his pupil. “You are such...a foolish child.”

Heinkel grimaced at their own weakness. In their shame, they could not look at their teacher. They attempted to push the Father away, beating on his broad shoulders in anger.

“DAMMIT! Dammit, Dammit! I couldn’t do it! Again---I-- And vith Yumi I---!!”

They quited when they glanced up to see the Father, who offered them their glasses. A look of remorse shone in Anderson’s emerald eyes.

A father reconciling with their child when they had fallen.

“We don’t weep for the dead.” Anderson spoke quietly.

“But...but you--!!” Heinkel protested. “I could have--”

“And y’don’t weep for the stupid. You’ll be cryin’ all day.”

Slowly, Heinkel reached out and took their glasses from Anderson’s fingers.

“If...If I may…?” The voice of Seras piped up softly, as if to not break the moment too jarringly.  
“Father, if I may, perhaps...a truce is in order?”

Anderson and Heinkel shared looks.

“We are after the same target, right?” Seras continued, “A temporary truce could benefit both organizations at this time.”

Taking his time, Anderson stood. He offered Heinkel a hand, who took it, and he helped them up with a pat on the back.

“A trus…it may be th best option ve have right now.” Heinkel said, shirking off their teacher, and quickly wiping off their glasses before placing them back on.  
“However, zere is only one demand I must make. I must be able to return vith ze body. By all rights, this traitor must be damned by his own.”

“Right.” Anderson spoke, “Then we’ll take his cross. Some sort of evidence that we did th’ job. How does this sit with you, Serahs?”

A soft sigh left the vampress. It was more than relief.

“Yes.” She motioned down the tracks. “Father, you said you needed a header? I think I have one.”

“Good. Lead th’ way then, Vampire.”

Seras stepped forward, taking the front of the group. They made their way into the tunnel. Seras would wait occasionally and stop for Anderson and Heinkel to catch up. She couldn’t help but hear the conversation between the two as they walked.

“Anderson I am zorry I…”

“No need for that. Th’ situation was sudden. Iy wanted you to act on impulse.”

“But I couldn’t! I am still veak...they tell me I am to take your place but... I am veak…”

“Heinkel...you think I’m so eag’r t’meet Iscariot as my enemy? Now quiet. What happn’d, happn’d. You can only do bett’r next tyme.”

“I dont vant there to be a next time Anderson. You are not my enemy. Az long as you have reazon...I won’t do it.”

“Reason or not y’idiot, monst’rs are monst’rs. I wont have you talkin’ like that…”

“Zhen I vill talk how I vish , dammit! You say you are not my better anymore, zhen I vill decide vat is best! I vill defeat you next time, but I von’t kill you. Know your shame az being spared by a human.”

Seras heard Anderson take a breath to answer, but she could not let it escape. Heinkel’s statement was an ending to the argument. The conviction was clear, and Seras could not help but give Heinkel the last word.

“Look.” The vampress approached a particular intricate carving in the stone on the wall. “Look at this. It’s in latin…”

The two drew their attention to Seras to see the wall writing. Heinkel squinted, before they turned on a soft light attached to their shoulder for the dark of this mission. It lit up the words in turn.

_**\- Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate  -** _

“Abadon all hope, ye who entre here.” Heinkel recited.

“Seems our Exorcist wants us t’believe we’re entering his own person hell.” Anderson mused, a slight smirk on his lips. “We have a poetic type.”

“The air doesn't smell so dense in this direction…” Seras muttered, “There could be an opening above to filter out air-”

Seras took a step.

The loose boards creaked on the tracks, loudly, in a false complaint.

A sound of a release, a heavy object being loosed from its hold.

A concrete log with large, jutting spikes swung down from the ceiling. Its momentum carried it at a fast speed, barreling towards the Vampire.

Seras inhaled in her shock, before she was wrenched away from where she stood. She landed on her back out of range of the swinging trap. Something grabbed her, it was still there, around her torso, she could feel dull pricks through her soldier's garb.

She looked down and saw thick green thorny vines holding her. Her eyes traveled back to the source.

Anderson stood with his arms out, vines extending out from under his coat sleeves. His face had a grimace of pleasant surprise before his eyes darted behind Seras.

The log broke from its chain on the uptake of its swing, and came rolling, spikes out, to the three.

The vampire whipped around and extended her ethereal arm. The void lashed forth and caught the pillar to halt its roll. Only upon contact, a lighting of pain conducted through her arm.

A golden light shown the markings upon large, thick spikes. They had been blessed.  
  
Seras cried out and the thorns returned, quickly looping around the trap log. Thorns scraped and wound tight before rooting the cement log to the ground.

Seras released her hold, withdrawing from the trap.

She took harsh breaths, steam rising off her body as if her flesh could boil.

“Seras!” Heinkel rose to meet her, Anderson followed their lead.

  
They reached her side, the Vampress slumped forward. She was caught by the white glove of Anderson’s hand, his other rested on her back so to prevent her from falling forward. He eased her weight back, so she leaned into his arm.

“Settl’ down... Can y’speak, lass?”

Seras took time to slow her breathing before she replied.

“I’m...alright. I’m not hurt.” Her crimson eyes searched the Father for a moment. Then a smile worked onto her lips, showing off a pearly fang. “Those thorns…!”

Heinkel looked up at her words, the thick thorns still held the concrete log in place, tying it to the ground. The blessings would have no effect against something holy.

“Anderson…”

Anderson raised his head and looked at his work. A toothy grin spread on his face with a barked laugh.

  
“Well, I’m not goin’ to sit back an’ let the bloody thing bowl y’over.”

“Traps.” Heinkel sneered. “He iz relying on the environment to aid him. He iz dezperate.”

“Then we’ll step lightly.” Anderson helped Seras to her feet, his hand leaving her shoulder when he felt sure she could stand on her own. “ An’ I’ll put that traitor to slaughter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) Titus 1:9
> 
> (2) Hebrews 10:17


	12. Cocytus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He attac he protec but most importantly he a plant - ( something I saw on tumblr)  
> Keep rolling. Next few chapters are a wrap I think.

  
“Turn back.” A voice called forth from the dark. “I will give you the chance to turn away, falcifiers. Take heed.”

The group of three stood in an opening. The track tunnel had come to  
end in a cavern. Lit candles provided a dim glow to show cement pillars holding up multiple floors to an open construction. An unfinished part of the underground now left to the dust.  
With the flickering of flame and thrown shadow, it appeared as an ancient church claimed by time.

“Iy am a servant of God.” Anderson spoke, his voice carried across the stone and cement. “I am called upon, to cut away the flesh of those who would embrace the heretical ord’r.”

“Iscariot has come.” Heinkel joined effortlessly. “We move to meet and denounce the traitor and the false god.” With a snap, they loaded two fresh clips into their pistols.

“It is Hellsing’s mission to destroy that which threatens our peace. Traitor of Iscariot, you are a danger on Hellsing territory and will be dealt with by our forces.”

Seras spoke last. Perhaps it was the battle cry aura cultivated by her allies that made her need to also announce herself to their enemy.

“Hellsing and Iscariot...together?” The Pure Exorcist said, “This is the such hypocrisy I have come to cleanse. Exorcists speak the truth, act the truth of God and the church. I will purify these misguided souls.”

A flash came forth, that revealed a man standing above on the second floor. His Iscariot coat was died white, his dark shoulder length hair flowed as if in light wind. In his right hand, an intricate spear made of white light.

“I am the spear of the church. I am the spear of purity and in turn I will exorcise your demons.”

The Exorcist raised his spear and brought it down. The light was absorbed by the ground and began to arch down a pillar and across the floor to the trio. They moved aside before a multitude of pure light spears rose from the ground, an electric holy energy sparked between them.

A spray of bullets shot forth from Heinkel’s guns. Each bullet that made contact shattered the spears into fractures of light. It made the rest of the weapon collapse into lighted dust.

“I will provide cover fire.” Henkiel told their current team mates. “My bullets will shatter zheir spear. You must charge zem!”

“ Vampire.” Anderson drew Seras attention.  
“You’re going to keep me company.” His grin split wide as with a swift uncrossing of his arms, two bayonets flashed to his hands.

Seras nodded, her arm uncurling from its human shape into its voided swath.

The two leapt forward, Anderson a blue blur and Seras a red flash.

The Spear was ready.

Anderson met resistance when a line of spears heads of light shot up from the ground. Heinkel shattered the heads with rounds , but the barrier was significant that Seras met the Exorcist first.

Her smile was sinister. Her eyes a deep sanguine, a voided drop into the ancient power of her bloodline.

Seras lashed out with a kick that broke stone.

The Exorcist parried with the staff of his spear, spinning the weapon around with liquid grace for the embellished tip to meet the vampress. He thrusted it forward, Seras moved her head in time the blade went by her cheek.

Though it did not make contact, she could feel the static of its holy sting.

She landed on all fours, then sent her ghostly appendage zig-zagging across the cement foundation. The energy of each tendril focused to stabbing point, they surrounded The Exorcist before rising up to pin straight down upon him.

A ring glowed around The Exorcist feet, many small symbols and latin words circling its barriers.

Seras’s arm halted, its form wavering as it tried to find an open point.

It was a barrier shield created of a blessed energy she could not pierce.

 _If can’t reach you that way…_ Seras’ eyes gleamed. She launched forward, her human hand drawn back flat like a blade.  
_...I’ll use my bare hand!_

Her nails just scratched by the top layer skin of the traitor’s cheek when a burning shock coursed through the Vampires middle. It started sharp before searing into a hot white point.

Lighting, she was being struck by lighting.

Seras hit the earth, impaled upon a spear of bright light.

She could gaze up enough to see The Exorcist not only had one, but three spears with him. One in his hand and the other floating as if orbiting his body.

The third was in her, stuck in her mid-section, pinning her like a piece of meat to the concrete.

She felt the world around her go static in focus. It felt like the void of her being was in a constant state of electric shock- every path being used to conduct pain. It was the holy energy that the spear was composed of that seared her.

“I did not expect to be met by celebrities.” The Traitor mused.

He turned just in time to catch Anderson’s bayonets on the long staff of his spear. The two held in a lock, bits of gold and blue sparks emitting from where their weapons met.

“Seras Victoria, the new Hellsing trump Vampire. Heinkel Wolfe, the regenerator assassin of Iscariot...and you, you go by many names don’t you, Paladin Anderson.”

Anderson leaned into his blades, his face a murderous grin.

“An’ you - What ar’ you?! A traitor! Weak! A back stabbin’ coward that DARES t’meet my gaze!”

“You don’t want to know my name, Bayonet Anderson?”

“It will be on list when Iy send you t’freeze in th’ ninth circle of th’ pit, you goddamn bastard!”

With a swift motion, Anderson rode his Bayonets up the length of the spear staff, making a shower of blinding sparks before the weapons parted with an audible clang.

Heinkel’s boots slid on the dusty concrete as they breaked at Seras’ side. They kneeled to assess  the damage before raising a pistol to fire a single bullet to shatter the spear head on top.

“I’m going to try and break ze bottom.” Heinkel explained, though part of them wondered if Seras could hear them at all.  
“Pulling it out with ze head vill only to more damage.”

  
They stood, reaching for a top part of the staff. When their hands met the pole, a white hot static arched through their fingers.

“Shit!” Heinkel swore, withdrawing quickly.  
“I zought zhis was holy magic!”

Heinkel then squinted, at the spear’s rod. Symbols of white glowed forth, symbols the Iscariot assassin recognized.

 _Zhis is hebrew...similar to our own blessings but...its from a lost section…I can’t interpret this dialect!_ Heinkel thought, scowling at the written script.

“Heinkel!”

They raised their head at the call of their name. It was from Anderson, who still clashed with The Exorcist.

“Get Serahs owt!” He commanded, parrying a blow from the orbiting spear. “Fall back an’ re-group! I’ll hold him here!”

  
“But Anderson…!”

“That’s an order, my Soldier of Iscariot! Go! And return for the retribution, for thou art also a weapon of divine justice! Go!”

  
Something swelled in Heinkel’ chest, a familiar pride that they thought had vanished thirteen years ago. The familiar rally given by Father Anderson that ignited a fire in Iscariot soldiers hearts. It was as if he had never left.

  
The Iscariot assassin turned back to Seras, they rubbed their hands together in a mental preparation.  
“Zhis is going to hurt me az much as it iz going to hurt you…”

  
Heinkel gripped tight and gave the spear a powerful jerk. At the touch, they felt the hot shock of the electrical holy energy conduct through their frame. Heinel cried out, giving the rod a final hard pull before it shattered at its head that was embedded in the ground.

They released a breath of victorious relief before moving to pick up the vampress. The movement and grip of their hands stung and burned. The flesh having been marred red and raw.

“Now go!” Anderson roared, he raised each hand with one bayonet nested in his fingers -a turn of his wrist, three bayonets - four bayonets.  
“Iscariot is in th’ service of death! We bow our heads in reverence to our lord while bringing justice to those who avert their gaze from his glory!”

 Anderson released his rain of blades upon The Exorcist, who could only use their own weapons to try and advert the singing downfall of bayonets.

“It won’t be easy to escape--” The Exorcist began before each handle on the garden bayonets around him clicked upward.

Their tops ignited with a flare.

BOOM

A cloud of dust and rock exploded up from the second floor platform, the blast crumbled and crashed the level to the cement below.

Heinkel could not waste such a smoke screen, they took off with Seras, just as a row of light spears jutted forth from the earth.

Anderson leapt down through the clinging sheet of smoke, and he charged forth again. His hands shining bright with rows of his holy bayonets in the dusty fog.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
A hiss escaped Heinkel’s lips as their right leg buckled. They reached around with a spare hand to touch their outer thigh. When their fingers came back into their site, they were wet with red.

This Exorcist was skilled...as they would be to take on five Iscariot soldiers at once and walk away undamaged.

No matter. Heinkel had Seras to attend to. Their slice would heal in minutes, and they’d be in top fighting shape again.

Away from The Exorcist’s power, Seras blinked steadily back into consciousness. An immense burning rose from their midsection. She gasped in pain, and it drew Heinkel’s attention.

“Don't spveak.” Heinkel told them, shuffling to kneel closer to the Vampress. “We need to remove zhis thing from your gut. It’s aura is no longer electric, but it iz still blessed. So it’s going to hurt you and take longer to heal.”

“Should I…” Seras rasped anyways despite the Iscariot’s advice, “...be humbled to be treated...s-so well by an enemy…?”

  
Heinkel nearly turned red at the sight of the Vampire’s fanged smirk. The bit of blood running from her smile brought them back to senses quickly, however.

“Shut up! I said don’t spveak! I need to do zhis quickly, Anderson iz still holding zat traitor off alone, he’ll need help.”

  
With a pained groan, Seras brought herself to sit on her knees. The spear staff weighted in her midsection made her balance odd.

“Ok...do it…”

Heinkel noded, placing a hand on her shoulder and the other around the staff.

“I do it on zhree…”

“Don’t bother--”

“ZHREE!”

Heinkel yanked back with all their strength, pulling the spear staff straight out Sera’s midsection. A bloom of red followed its path, followed by a choked sound of pain from the Vampress. -as in she coughed on the blood that rose in her throat.

  
With a toss to the side, the spear staff shattered into light to disperse into the darkness.

“Better?” Heinkel raised their brows in earnest, looking to Seras.

“Yes…” Seras ground out, she held her midsection with her voided hand.

“Good. Now ztay here.” Heinkel rose to their feet, their own wound having mended during their time aiding the vampress.

They dropped their empty clips from their pistols before reloading two more in quickly.

“No I won’t…!”

  
Seras began before Heinkel shot down a pale blue glare to the Vampress.  
“Shut up. Come back ven you are healed and not a liability, left-leggar.”

  
A final glare was given to the Vampire, before Heinkel dashed away. Father Anderson needed their help. An Iscariot soldier would never leave another in peril, and Heinkel would never leave Anderson in loyalty.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
He had to keep his head.

Literally.

Anderson could feel a veil blanketing his mind, it made his sight swim behind his glasses and his ears ring with a strange high chorus.

The Nail was trying to go on the defensive. It would inhibit any unnecessary faculties and he would only know the base of his intent.

Fight.  
Win.  
Survive.  
Glory to God.

 _No, your divine wrath is justified...but let me handl’ this._ Anderson told the nail that beat for his heart.  
_I will satisfy this traitors debt in hell. Let me._

The Paladin’s thoughts were interrupted by another spear. A second one joined the first in his body, and found its mark between his ribs on his right.

Upon the impalement, more thorns poured forth from Anderson's body.

The vines twisted and writhed around the place of the wound, circling around to his back.

As with the first spear, the result was nearly the same. Stuck in his left shoulder, vines cropped around the impact spot, a swarm of angry bees protecting their hive.

Anderson stumbled back, losing his footing, he came to a knee. One of his bayonets clattered to the cement from his left hand.

He took heavy breaths, more in part to try to keep his mind clear. The second spear only made the ringing in his ears louder. His vision saw spots.

“When I saw you alive...I didn’t expect it would be under these circumstances.” The Exorcist observed Anderson with interest. “Your body is no longer human, is it? You are no longer human.”

“I am enough...t’serve the Lord as one of his holy flock of assassins.” Anderson spoke, his normally bombastic, proud voice sounded tired. “An’ I will see you frozen in Cocytus (1) this day…!”

With a loud roar, Anderson charged forth again, summoning bayonets to his hands. He cried out with each swing.

When the Exorcist avoided his blades, Anderson lashed a hand out, thorny vines squirming loose as a flood from under his sleeve.

They sought their target in a winding fury, latching themselves onto the Exorcist’s arm and winding up to his shoulder. The thorns did not spare their spikes, impaling and choking their hold in the flesh.

In retaliation, the Exorcist had loosed one of his spears.  
The intricate blade cut by Anderson’s face, carving a deep slice to the back of his skull.

Glasses fell, shattering on the stone.  
Vines came forth, enveloping the Paladin’s head.

A tight toothed grimace and two sharp emerald eyes shone through the thorns, filled with a raging malice.

“I am ready to purify you all. Monsters…” The Exorcist readied a spear of light, turning his gaze from Anderson to Heinkel who had charged in, pistols at the ready.

Anderson looked to where The Exorcist aimed.  
“...and falsifiers.”

The spear flew forward, its mark the Iscariot Assassin’s head.

When Heinkel made to aim for the tip, it split into a multitude of spear heads. A white river of light.

The river was intercepted and tangled in a cascade of thorns. Each spear was held in place by a mangle of vines.

  
The closest blade tip met between Heinkels eyes, just on the bridge of their glasses.

Anderson then pulled the traitor close with his lash of thorns. The vines wrapped tight around them both.

The Paladin’s green eyes that glared through a mass of thorns watched a shadow rise infront of him.

The shadow’s deep crimson eyes gleamed from over The Exorcists shoulder; a red that shone like a bottomless abyss.

Seras Victoria plunged her voided hand through both the Exorcist and the Paladin.

  
The traitor made little sound at the impact of his death. Little sound would he make in the frozen lake bed.

Anderson’s vines unwound and the Exorcist fell to the cold cement.

When the blood pooled, tendrils of thorns grew forth from the spot of Sera’s fatal blow. They wound and writhed tight over the entire body, their thorns piercing deep.

“Father Anderson.” Seras eyes turned up from the body, seeing where her hand had put a hole in the Paladin as well.

She looked to his face, where she could make out scarce features from the writhing crop of thorns that consumed his skull.

Anderson himself was looking down, watching as the vines quickly restored his insides with a  creak of wood.

He then bent down and picked up his shattered glasses. They remained between his fingers as his gaze met Seras again.

“I’m sorry, sir but...I took the shot…” The vampress wavered before she nearly fell to her knees.

The Father was at her side immediately, where she leaned into his shoulder to support her weight. The holy wound still sapped her strength and left the vampress weak.

“Anderson! Seras!” Heinkel ran to meet them as the Father leapt from the second floor in a swath of coat tails to meet his Iscariot student.

Only, Heinkel paused upon seeing The Paladin’s visage as a mass of creaking thorns.

“A...Anderson…?”

After a brief pause, the Paladin adjusted Seras weight against him before he took a seat on the ground with a small cloud of dust.

Heinkel paused in confusion, their entire posture unsure of situation before them. They watched as Anderson removed his long coat before placing it around the Vampress and allowing her to lean into his wide shoulder in her half conscious state.

He then motioned for Heinkel to sit.

_Perhaps...the Nail still has an effect on him...he’s waiting it out…_

Heinkel did as they were suggested, and sat across from the Father.

They could see the areas that the spears once pierced were healing. The thorns were retracting. They sensed their host was safe again and worked to repair and retreat.

Anderson’s face was mostly visible again after afew minutes, save for the remaining tendrils that crawled and wormed under the skin of his jaw.

“Y’did good Heinkel.” Anderson finally spoke, his voice carried as the only sound in the decimated space.

Anderson replaced his shattered glasses on his face.

The night air swept in cool from openings in the construction.

“Zank you, sir…” They looked over to The Exorcist’s colding body, still encased in thorns. “Vat do I say when zey ask about zhis…?”

“You say what happn’d. You rightly perforhmed your service as an honorable apostl’ of God.”

Heinkel sat quietly. Their thoughts were a tornado of conflict. That tornado brought with it a storm that rained down dampness.

Anderson’s hand then came down and ruffled their hair affectionately before he looped an arm over their shoulder to pull them closer.

“You’re a good soldier, Heinkel. I’m proud of you.” His voice was low, a soft thoughtfulness to it.

Heinkel tried not to shirk when they felt the vines snake around under Anderson’s sleeve.

The storm rained with the tornado not far behind. A raindrop fell from Heinkel’s cheek behind their glasses.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( 1 ) Cocytus is the great frozen body of water in the Ninth Circle of hell were traitors are frozen, contorted, inside in layers based on their level of treachery.


	13. The Great Tribulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heyo im worried about quality slipping so depending on how I feel, I might very well wrap this up soon. There is still stuff to work with, but, quality is important to me and Id rather deliver on that front. So, we're heading into the end I think soon. A short chapter, but important. ( also fuck it, alucard returns a little early in this AU )

  
_Alexander Anderson tossed the silver cross onto the desk. It clinked with a gleam of metal before lying flat on the polished wooden surface._

  
_“There. Yer trespasser is in Cocytus this night.”_

  
_Integra’s remaining eye looked up from a paper she was busily writing. Her eye then met the cross on her desk. Then looked back to her papers._  
_With an almost deliberate slowness, Integra’s pen left the paper. She placed it back into its ink well with a tink._

_Integra reached out and took the cross’s sleek silver chain in between her fingers. She held it at eye level before letting the chain slip just enough that it stopped at the cross before her eye._

_The silver cross dangled and shined._

_Integra looked to The Paladin._

_“And where is the rest of him?”_

_Alexander regarded her through a lense._

  
_“Where it should be. He’s not our’s t’bury.”_

_Integra’s fingers enclosed the silver cross in her palm._

_“Anoth’r thing, Protestant.”_

_Integra’s eye looked to Anderson again when he spoke._

_“You said the’rs no such thing as coincidence. So y’d think me meetin’ Iscariot was planned?”_

_“Yes...I heard Iscariot did make an appearance on this mission.” Integra steepled her fingers, the cross hanging in between them as a church. “So your meeting with Heinkel Wolfe, correct, was coincidence?”_

_“It was a chance meetin’.”_

_“I also heard...you wanted Heinkel to kill you, is that right?” Something of piqued interest crept into Integra’s voice. “To quote a familiar someone, you, ‘ripped your heart out’ for them. That you ‘couldn’t have made it easier.’_

_Anderson’s emerald green’s glared through his lenses._

_“Yet you’re still here? This too was chance?” Integra pressed, she poked ever so gently at the house of cards._

_“They’r not ready yet.” Anderson said simply, as if discussing test results. He turned with a swish of coat tails and began to leave the room._

_“Yet?”_

_“Aye, yet. Heinkel’s a good soldier, and Iy would be happy to be th’ monster t’die at their hands. But not yet.”_

_“So, you feel through chance, you will meet again? When they are ready?”_

_Anderson stopped at the office door. As he looked over his shoulder, his own golden cross swung from his neck._

_“Aye. If we meet again, it will be by chance. Not planned. Not expected. When Heinkel is ready, they’ll be ready. They ar’ their own mast’r now. I don’t shepherd them any long’r. They didn’t plan to loose me, I didn’t plan for me t’come back. It happin’d. What happin’s next, only th’ Lord knows.”_

_Integra smiled quietly from her desk._

_“Rememb’r, Hellsing, I’m not one of your pathetic dogs. ...An’ stop askin’ the damn girl t’spy for you. She’ll tell you what you need t’know if you need ‘tknow.”_

_Were Anderson’s last words before he left the room, leaving a smiling Integra, a silver cross dangling from her steepled hands, it’s only occupant._

 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
It happened in the middle of the night. The usual still and quiet of Hellsing Manor was broken by the sound of gunshots. It made Anderson sit up in bed, awoken by the loud bang. It was then followed by the sound of sprinting boots, they came down the hall - past his room - continued down the hall.

Anderson got out of bed immediately and headed for the door. He did not bother to put a shirt on, if there were intruders in the mansion he’d butcher them naked if he had to.  
He opened it with a creak, and leaned his head out in time to see the last flash of Seras Victoria as she ran full speed out of the hall, rocket launcher in toe, down to another.

The girl was in a hurry, she would arrive to the trouble first. It was not a bad thing, The Paladin knew the vampress was a powerful creature to handle a situation. Still, he was curious about the racket.

Anderson made his way down the hall, following the sound of commotion that carried like a wave through walls of the normally still manor.

The sound of a door being kicked open unceremoniously.

“Are we under attack again, Master?!”

Then another voice, low, male. Just the very sound of it made Anderson’s blood cold.

“YOU’RE BACK!” Seras’ voice cried with delight.

The Paladin did not alter the pace of his steps. He moved forward, was drawn forward to that voice.

He could never forget, its sound like the velvet touch of the darkest sanguine rose petal. He could never forget.

The way it begged him, in a somber plea that didn’t belong to a creature of eternal evil and fire. The way it wept blood for him, a ceremonial funeral for a repeated mistake.

The way that voice made his eyes ignite and his hair rise as if under spark, his manic grin wide, and his entire core resurrected in the bright fires of ancient conflict.

And he loved it.

Anderson could see through the doorway of Integra’s room. He stood at a distance, only watching.

 

“You’re Home,

              My dear Count.”

 

 “Back forever more,

               My Countess.”

 

 

A single drop of blood fell from the Hellsing woman’s finger, onto the awaiting tongue of the Count Vampire on the floor beneath where she stood.

Anderson watched.

He only watched.

He turned from the scene, following the path through the hall back to his room.

Anderson could swear he could feel every thorned vine churn under his skin, tendrils curling and coliling.

A winded, layered barb of wooden thorns in the skin of a man.

A dull pain had begun to throb from his heart, where the nail lie underneath it all.


	14. The Divine Comedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had fun writing this one, made me want to draw things for it.

   
_“Ah-now Yumie, what's that? What did Iy say when I gave that t'you?”_

_The small girl with overflowing black locks looked up through her scruffy bangs at the overly tall Father._

_“A weapon is for battle....It belongs only in battle.”_

_“That’s right. So, bringin’ a sword onto th' playground with th’ other children?”_

_“Sorry, Father...I’ll put it back.”_

_“There’s a good girl.” Anderson smiled softly at the girl with a wooden bokken samurai sword far taller than she was behind her back. He ruffled her hair affectionately._

_“And tell th’ same to Heinkel. If I catch them wavin’ those rubber ducks(1) around outside practice, they’re in for it. Aye?”_

_Yumie nodded before she ran past the Father to begin to tromp up the stairs._

_“Father Anderson said you can’t bring them Heinkel!”_

_Anderson gave a knowing smile in the direction the had girl disappeared to. Perhaps he’d introduced the ‘one day to be’ members of Iscariot too early to their practice arms._

_Then again, it was never too early to introduce a soldier to their weapon; it would be their other limb in battle._

  
_They were also still so young. They still had time to opt out of the soldiers life._

_They were among many of the children who came to admire the Iscariot section from Anderson’s tales of their victories against monsters of the night. Tales of good triumphing against hell’s evils. Like any child read tales of brave knights, they wanted to grow to become such roles._

_‘Father Anderson, Father Anderson, when can I be in Iscariot?’ One would pipe up from their bed, blankets clutched in their hands._

_‘Ah, now I must warn you, children. The soldiers of Iscariot are not such glorified apostles. We are God’s weapons.’ Anderson would say, a finger raised in tutor._

_‘But you’re not suppose to kill, right Father?’ Another would ask, sitting cross legged on their mattress._

_“Aye, yes. We don't kill needlessly, ev'r.  For we are all part of God’s kingdom. Yet, that is why Iscariot is here. Heathens and Monst’rs must answer for th’ path they’ve chosen. We ar’ necessary, a hidden heretic of God’s path to defend his glory.’_

_Once the story had been told, and the explanation given, Anderson would remind them to say their prayers before sleep and leave them to their dreams._

_Then some, if they so choose, would be solider’s in the future under the Paladin that once put them to bed at night._

_With a sigh, Anderson turned to make his way back to the garden playground to monitor where the children played._

_A chilled wind blew through him._

_It made him freeze in his tracks, the overwhelming thick blanket of evil that draped over his surroundings._

_It gave him a gleam in his eyes when his blood ran cold._

_The Paladin turned, ready to face what created such an aura when he spotted a child._

_She was dressed simply in the orphanage girls gown. Her hair was a rich black that flowed long in all directions from her head, bangs cut short over her eyes._  
_Speaking of her eyes, they were what struck him the most._  
_A deep sanguine of another world._

_He could have sworn he saw those eyes before._

_“Hello there, wee one.” Anderson kneeled to address the child at eye level. “The oth’rs are outside, why don’t you join them?”_

_She shook her head, her long straight waves of hair flowed weightless almost._

_“No? Th’ library then? I can show you where it is?”_

_Again, she shook her head._

_“I want to talk to someone.” She spoke in her small voice._

_Something about this child, set Anderson’s hair on the rise. Perhaps it was their eyes. Those sanguine eyes that looked down at you from their perch, down, down - you could fall into them and not resurface. The eyes of a predator that knew it was superior._

_A gleam fell over Anderson’s round lenses._

_“And who do y’want t’talk to then?”_

_“You. I want to talk to you…” As she spoke her voice dropped in pitch to that rich darkness. That voice he could never forget._  
_“ **...Alexander Anderson.”**_

 

_That voice now haunted him in his dreams_

 

_Anderson fought every nerve, every fiber of his being not to grab the count brat by the throat and put them through a wall._

  
_Oh how he wanted to, this thing was not a child. It only wore a child’s visage like a sheep's skin._

_“Monst’r…” Anderson’s voice was a smoldering out from his teeth like a volcano to erupt at any moment, “...you’re not welcome in my head. Get th' hell out. I’ve been makin peace with enough of my demons...I don’t need any more of them th’ likes of you.”_

_The vampire gave one of his chilling laughs in response._

_“Oh, Anderson. I will be the demon you will never pacify. I am your failure, the one that is with you forever now; in your unlife.”_

_Anderson’s knuckles were white on his clenched fists._

_-Don’t let him get under your skin…_  
_Damn, under your skin - he’s already in your head, man!-_

_“Much more than that, Anderson.” Alucard replied lazily, a smile on the child’s face showing pearly fangs, “I am everywhere...and nowhere, now. Your head is just a destination spot on a map that I can choose to be or not to be in.”_

_Alexander could restrain himself no longer, the child’s form was rammed into the wall, causing it to crack and crumble from impact._

_A stone wall._

_A stone brick wall._

_They were no longer in the orphanage._

_Smoldering_ _remains of buildings surrounded them, the buildings of London, the buildings of the Millennium War._

_“I will destroy you, you monst’r…!” Anderson hissed between his teeth. “I swear as I am a weapon of his divine wrath, and as you are a defiance t' God!”_

_The child lolled her head to the side, looking at The Paladin with a disapproving eye._

_“This is becoming pathetic, Anderson. You had your chance, and this is what you chose. You are as much a monster as I am now…”_

_The child bore a murderous grin and raised a hand to Anderson’s temple. Claw-like nails dug into his flesh and with a swift movement, tore the skin from The Paladins face as if it were a mask._

_A pair of glasses fell to the stone street._

_Underneath the skin, a nest of thorns writhed and churned with wooden creaks over his skull. Anderson still glared out of it all with a pair of deadly emerald eyes, his teeth grinding._

_“There you are! Just as I remembered you, Monster of God. My nemesis returns when I had thought he perished before me, I was wrong.”_

_Anderson growled._ _It was as if in his building anger, he could not part his jaw._

_He ground the child’s body further into the brickwork with his strength._

_“My nemesis returns, not as a human, but as a monster to rival…!”_

_A hand, no longer a child’s hand, ran Anderson through his chest._

_Alucard was a child no more, taking his usual red suited form, his wide fanged grin returned as his hand palmed Anderson’s heart. Thorns snaked around the Vampire’s arm, thorns piercing the flesh, but they instantly burned away on contact with the count._

_A clench of his hand around the organ made Anderson gasp, releasing his hold of Alucard’s collar in favor of the vampire’s arm that was now within him. His hands joined the clawing thorns._

_“You disappoint me, Alexander Anderson. And now here we are...two monsters...two crying children in a squabble. Perhaps we are not even that…anymore…”_

_Another clench of Alucard’s hand around his heart and Anderson loosed a roar of pain._  
_Every pump of his heart, he could feel the Count’s hand press against the muscle. The nail quivered in the presence of evil._

_Something else began to happen that caused more of a panic to rise in his chest._

_Anderson followed Alucard’s eyes down to his boots._

_He was unwinding._

_Anderson was literally a mass of thorns unwinding, from the bottom up ,into a pile of still wood vines._

_Alucard was unwinding as well, becoming a red void of blood._

_Anderson fought to pull away, to be released from the vampire’s hold, only now his arms were unraveling._

_From his fingertips, falling into wooden vines._

_“Shut up and Fight me!! Fight---!!” Anderson’s roar died as his jaw went slack, unraveling._

_Two hearts could be seen amidst their destruction._

_One, pierced with a barbed nail, glowing softly green with each beat._

_The other, pierced with a dark stake, bleeding openly into the void._

_Both hearts with no body, no shell._

_They began to fall into what remained of their hosts._

_A pile of thorns._

_A mass of blood._

  
_\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -_

Anderson sat up in his bed with a gasp. His breath came in audible ragged inhales.

It hurt- the throbbing pain returned to his chest, to his heart.

A hand flew to the spot, clawing at the twisted scar that was ingrained in the surface.

  
His eyes darted about the room, looking for a clue to where he was now.

It was the dark wallpaper and victorian architecture of the Hellsing Manor.

The window still showed the darkness of the sky outside, early morning.

Lifting a hand, Anderson grabbed his own palm for inspection. He turned his hand over, looked up his arms for any trace of himself turning to thorny vines.

No. It was only his own skin.

Anderson could not help but snort a scoff at himself.

Skin on the outside at least...

A laugh floated erriely about the ceiling of the room, fading into a distant echo.

The head vampire was back. And Anderson felt he would not be getting a full nights sleep from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( 1 ) Rubber Duck is a term for a firearm training gun. It fires nothing and is purely for a solider to learn and become familiarized with their weapon. They often have to take it apart and put it back together perfectly. It ranges from different models.


	15. The Sabbath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will end this arc I think. If I write about this AU again, it will be a new story rather than an added chapter. Depends when I think of a new idea to work with for them as theres is possibility, just needs a story.

Grey clouds loomed over the Hellsing Manor. They brought rain with them, proving a steady fall of drops that bounced and ticked off the Manor roof tiles. It dotted itself on the Manor’s windows before running down the glass in a race of water.

Hellsing Manor was relatively quiet this day.

There were no current assignments to be done. No monsters to be slain.

The Manor was in a placid state.

Which slightly unnerved Integra Hellsing being that Alucard and Anderson were in the same vicinity, never mind establishment, of each other. She had half expected her Manor to be up in flames by now, she and Seras standing out on the lawn with an umbrella watching the building crumble. 

Surprisingly, no one was trying to kill each other.

Integra closed the book she was reading with a hand. She lounged on the a couch of the sitting room of the Manor. A bright fire was crackling inside the hearth, giving a warm glow to the grey that settled in the walls from the storm.  In front of her, the television played, more of a background noise, on some channel she no longer remembered.

She tapped her finger on the hardback cover, pondering.

“He hasn’t come out in three days.” 

“Who, sir?” Seras perked as she entered the room, she carried with her a silver tray with a tea kettle.

“Our resident Papist. Ah-” Integra sat up from her slouch as the sight of the tray Seras brought with her. “Thank you, Seras.”  
  
“Cold and rain. It’s a good time for tea, sir.” Seras smiled genuinely, placing the tray down on a small table next to the couch.

“I agree.” Integra leaned over to the small side table to fix her tea, motioning for Seras to not pour her glass for her. “What do think, Alucard?”

The Vampire sat lazily himself on a embellished chair in front of the fire. His head bowed with his chin resting just on his chest. Alucard tapped a finger one of the wooden chair arms.

“He’s being a good Priest, and honoring your bargain.”

“Hiding up in his room? Seras has said she’s only--”

Integra hushed quickly at the sound of a door opening on the second floor. She watched the ceiling, her eyes almost following the sound of footsteps down the hall.

They went away...and then returned.

The sound of a door shutting again.

Integra paused with her remaining eyebrow raised before she returned to her words.

“....she has only seen him briefly during the mornings and afternoons. Then he hides away up there. Is he even eating? Does he eat now as a...thorn….thing?”

“He did while he recovered here, sir.” Seras answered, “And...there are plants that eat…?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Integra waved the conversation away with a hand. “But I don’t know how long he plans on keeping this act.”  
  
Alucard shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He agreed to be a part of Hellsing on certain terms. He’s honoring them strictly, because he knows, he won’t be able to resist trying to kill me on sight.”

“Is that so…” Integra held her cup of tea, taking a short sip before looking up to the ceiling again. “And you have your orders on the situation.”

“I will honor them thoroughly, my master.”

Seras watched the conversation between her masters in silence. Her own eyes wandered upward. The Father had been very scarce. No doubt it was due to the return of her long gone master.

A thought came to Seras, surely, she could try and build a peace between them. Well, perhaps not a peace, but some sort of common ground?

The image of Anderson tearing out his own heart flashed in her mind. Did...The Paladin want to die? Now that her Master was here...there was a score to settle. Anderson could fight to defeat Alucard or die trying.

 _What are you brooding about, police girl?_  
  
Seras started at the sound of her Master’s voice. A strange relief came with it, it had been so long since she had heard her his voice within her. It nearly sent her awash in a lulled state of nostalgia.  
  
_Well? Do tell me what’s on your mind._  
  
Seras wondered if she looked as conflicted as she felt.  
  
_Master, it’s just...the Father--_

 _Your overflowing empathy holds no bounds. Time to place some. Don’t waste your pity, Anderson made his choice. He was happy to abandon his humanity. Now he’ll have to live with that decision. Perhaps as long as I have, maybe more? Or who knows, maybe we are just two creatures destined to fight until the world is no more around us?_  
  
_Master…?_  
_  
Forget him, police girl. Do not suffer fools, particularly those of the Catholic type._

“Seras.”  
  
“Oh...” The vampress came to attention at Integra’s voice. “Yes, sir?”

“This tea is particularly a good batch. Perhaps you could offer a pot to our Papist upstairs.”  
  
Alucard made a noise in his throat from his seat at the suggestion, but remained unmoving.

A light smile came to Seras’ face and she gave a nod.  
  
“Thats sounds like a fine idea, sir.”

 

  * \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -



 

Seras hesitated.

She held her hand up to the door but it had stopped there. Her Masters word’s still circled her mind as here she stood in front of the door to Alexander Anderson’s room with a tea tray in hand.

Was the Father truly a lost cause?

But...Monsters were human once.  
They still had hearts. No matter the state of them.

She knew this herself, and she withdrew her knocking hand to her own chest.

Yet she did not know Anderson, nor his reasoning.

But he could reason, and this gave her hope.

Seras reached out to knock again when the door opened itself, making her withdraw her hand quickly. Looking down at her from his tall height, Anderson regarded the girl with a stone visage.

The Vampress felt a chill, was it emanating from the Father? He was an iceberg, towering down on her, watching.

“Its…” She was always taking a chance with the priest, so why not now? “...Its the vampire butler of Hellsing, sir. She is wondering if by chance, you would like some tea on her rounds?”  
_  
_ _Because our real Butler was a traitor who ground your seconds old ashes to the brick with his heel and said to fuck off._

Anderson looked impassive, his gleamed over glasses hiding his eyes.

Seras held her breath, and waited for the front of a door to be slammed in her face; and to hopefully not be drenched in hot tea from the result.

He raised his brows, a green eye looking out at the vampress through a lense.

“Y’do know English Brekfast wasn’t created by th’ English?”

“Uh...er….what…?” Seras nearly squeaked.

“It came from Scotland originally. Wasn’t till your Queen Victoria that it came t’be known as a brekfast tea…” He held her under his gaze until he flashed an amused smile at her confusion.  
  
“Come in. Make it quick.”

He stepped out of the doorway into the room, allowing her entrance. She smiled victoriously to herself before she wiped the expression away to something more common.

Seras looked around the room given to the Paladin for stay. Little had changed from its original state. The desk in the room had a stack of books on it with a few files laid out and the small light on its corner was on.

“Researching something,Father?” She asked before she had let the question  sit.

As if in response, Anderson moved over to the desk to close any of the open books.

“Iscariot mostly.” He spoke under his breath before he pulled out the desk chair to take a seat facing her.

She wanted to bite her cheek. The illusive priest had invited her in and she immediately tried to nose into his personal business.

“Tea?” Anderson spoke up, snapping Seras back from her thoughts.

“Oh. Right.”

Seras quietly prepared a cup, lifting her head to ask,

“Do you want cream or sugar, Father?”

He shook his head.

“No cream. Sugar yes. ...make one fer yourself. There’s a seat behind you.”

Looking over her shoulder there was an extra chair against the wall.

He was...asking her to take a seat?

It was nearly too perfect a set up, Seras had planned on talking anyways.

“Ah, none for me, Father.” She pointed to her neck. “Vampire…?”

“It’s how human y’look, save for yer eyes.” He commented on his slip-up.

She smiled lightly and brought the Father his tea first before taking a seat.

“What did y’come up here for?” Anderson went for the throat, no more small talk.

Seras intertwined her fingers in her lap, sitting straight.

“I...wanted to ask you something concerning my Master.”

“The Protestant or her Dog?”

She tried not to frown at the harsh terms for both her Masters.

“Not Sir Integra, Father.”

Anderson took a drink of his tea, quiet for the moment. He wore a bit of a scowl on his lips when he returned the cup to its plate.

“About what? Know this, young lady, I won’t be mistakin my own nature. I’ll paint th’ walls with your Count on sight.” The words from The Paladin were grim. “An’ he better be willin t’do the same with me.”

He didn’t know yet.

Sir Integra had ordered a strict “no dog fights” ,as she put it, on Alucard with Anderson.

Seras decided to not say so.

“Forgive me if I’m...digging where I don’t belong, but, My Master said you told him you were happy to abandon your humanity. To become a monster, like him.” Her bright red eyes looked to the Paladin, no longer seeming tepid about her question. “You didn’t want to feel anymore. You lost hope, didn’t you? Why, Father?”

The room was still. Rain being heard pecking off the rooms windows, still racing down in streams. A small rumble of thunder rolled.

“Iy wasn’t goin’ t’make it out, lass. I knew that my battl’ with Alucard would be my last.” He looked into the dark tea in his cup. “And if my life forfeit for God could defeat him…spare some oth’rs...”

He let his words fall off. He took another drink before speaking again. 

He looked like he wished it was something stronger than tea.

“Y’dont expect t’come back from Limbo. Iy didn’t expect Yumie would be one Iy couldn’t save. I didn’t expect...this.” He motioned to the room about him.

“But you made a choice, Father.” Seras leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “I...made a choice as well.”

Anderson almost mirrored her move, leaning forward an elbow on his knee while the other hand held his cup.

“Then you’re th’ bett’r of us monsters.”

“...Do you want to die, Father Anderson?”

The sound of rain.

“You asked me what it was like to use th’ nail. I was still there...but it was differin’t. I wasn’t myself anymore, I accepted it as something else. I could hear Heinkel and Yumie, they called my name, but it wasn’t me anymore. Am I myself now? Or just some...shell for th’ relec t’host in.”

He ran a hand through his short blonde hair with a sigh of relent before putting his empty cup down.

The rain seemed deafening against the windows. Wind rattled the trees outside.

“Fyne. What do you want me t’do about your Dracula an’ me? What d’you suggest?”

 


	16. Ex Nihilo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We come to an end here. Not the longest, but its still an end.  
> This may be the end for this arc, but there will prolly be more stories from this AU to write. Id still like to write more for this AU, honestly.
> 
> But for now, its done.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading.

“I’ve yet to ask your position on this whole thing, my servant.” Integra put down her empty tea cup.

Outside, the wind picked up. Rain would bullet the windows in gusts and soft thunder rolled and roamed the sky over the Manor.

In his chair, the Count, intertwined his long white gloved fingers. Alucard was always one that Segra could seem to sense his intent. Perhaps it was their bond. But she did not need to see the vampire to know the mischievous smile placed on his face.

“No, you have not, my master.”  
  
The commander began to take a cigar from the box sitting on the table near the sofa. She took her time as she prepared it, using the small guillotine-like tool to cut its end for lighting.

“Mmm...well, I don’t hear much commotion up there, so, our Paladin may be sparing our young miss.” She gave a slight smile before she searched for her lighter in her shirt pocket. “Well then, do tell Alucard. How does it feel to be under the same roof as your nemesis?”

A deep, rich chuckle tremored the vampires shoulders in his seat.

“It is an atmosphere that could be ignited with the snap of a match. A tension of steel holding to its final threshold. The stirring fiery brimstone that flare in the chest before battle! In short my master...it is a fine sensation. This feeling of thick unsettledness among parties. I do love it, my master.”

Integra snapped open her lighter. The flame flickered forth, and embered the end of her cigar in a warm light.

Snap!

The flame went out and thick clouds of smoke curled to the ceiling.

“I see. Then it seems your current orders are necessary to keep you both from destroying my mansion.  And Seras…” She gave a long exhale of smoke, “...She has grown fond of our Papist. Does this bother you any?”  
  
Alucard gave a scoff.

“The Police girl may do as she likes. If she is foolish enough to entertain fools, that is her headache. Not mine.”

“Mmmm...Don’t care for it I see.” Integra commented her thoughts out loud.

“Please. My fledgling needs to learn a lesson in empathy and its dangers. ….Speaking of…”  
  
Integra had time to look up before a whirlwind of golden pages swept into the room. They circled about in their tornado of wind, flapping and whipping together like victorious small flags. A silhouette of a figure began to appear out of their spaces, a single blink and you could miss the apparition among the sea of swirling pages.

Alexander Anderson rose from the middle of this paper storm.

Papers began to settle on their winds, slowly falling in graceful arcs.

He appeared in front of Alucard as a dark shadow with gleaming round lenses.

Some of the papers had fallen into the fire behind him, the swell of flames only seemed to make his frame larger.

A clenched fist.  

Anderson reared a white gloved fist back and threw it forward with all his might.

The impact hit the head vampire in the jaw; a crack confirming a fracture and dislocation.

It sent the vampire and the chair he sat in tumbling across the room in a series of bangs and clatters.

When it rocked to a stop, the chair was on its back.

The vampire still sat in its cushion.

Integra could only watch as the Paladin stalked over to where the chair lie. Using his boot, he placed it on the lip of the chairs bottom to flip it up to face him. A hand holding the chair back, arm over Alucard’s head in an intimidating stature.

“Th’ big skary Vampire can’t fight back now can he?!” Anderson’s voice was a bombastic Scottish bur, a toothy jackal grin on his face. “That’s got t’be something similar of Lent, innit?!”  
  
“Anderson, what is the meaning of this?” Integra stood, her remaining eye looking dangerous.

Alucard had a similar toothy grin as Anderson on his face, blood leaking from his busted nose and mouth. However, he didn’t move a muscle otherwise.

“Shut up, Protestant. I’ve got a declaration for your vampire!”  
  
“A declaration of what?”  Integra nearly seemed exasperated by the burst of madness from the preist.

“Its...alright, sir.” Seras spoke up, she was now at The Hellsing head’s side,“He’s very…’passionate.' ...I just think this is his way of...doing things….”  
  
“It’s terrible.” Integra muttered to which Seras sighed in agreement.

Anderson turned his attention back to Alucard, a emerald eye flashing behind a lense of his glasses.

“I ain’t going anywhere anytime soon, Vampire! I’m gont’a be round for th’ next war! And th’ next! Until Lord in Heaven come t’claim his monst’r, by your hand or that of my prodigy- I’m here t’stay!” He released his hold on the chair, letting it rock stiffly back into a settled position.

Anderson then looked to Integra.  
  
“So, coincidences, then?” He raised his brows, “How’s this for not a coincidence for you? Two great enemies joining in a thin truce? ‘Think It’s mean t’be?”

Integra stood, her cigar smoked lazy curls around her platinum bangs. She took her time to remove it from her lips and held it between her fingers with elegance.

“I do not go back on my word once spoke. Yes, Papist, an expert monster hunter such as yourself is meant to be under my roof.”

A small audible ‘crack’ was made as Alucard re-set his jaw with a hand. He then straightened his back against his chair, still sitting as if the event had not occurred.  
  
“Do tell me, what has sharpened your resolve, Anderson? Why the change of heart?”  
  
Seras could have sworn when she looked at the Paladin, he gave a glance to her. A single eye, viewable behind his gleamed glasses.

It’s emerald green was soft in gratitude. 

Then it was gone.

Light catching bright over the lense again.

“What does it matt’r?” Anderson replied, a smirk on his face. “ Y’cant resist a fight forever, Vampire.  Neither of us can turn our backs for long.”  
  
A laugh resounded from the head vampire.

“Oh dear, you do know my weakness, my nemesis. Yet I am but a dog at the end of my chain, but at final word from my master, we will battle until the end times.”  
  
“Perfect.” Anderson grinned.

Seras watched with Integra as her Master and The Paladin traded glares and words that could pass for daggers.

Yet, it felt as if part of a piece had returned to the shatters of the war. Something was a bit less disjointed in what the war had took from them all.

“I’ll be in my office.” Integra sighed, turning the leaving the room as a roll of thunder passed through.

  
“God help this mess.”


End file.
